mirran, the kangaroo, and warreen, the wombat, were once men. they did not belong to any tribe, but they lived together, and were quite happy. nobody wanted them, and they did not want anybody. so that was quite satisfactory.

warreen was the first. all his tribe had been drowned in a flood, leaving him quite alone. so he found a good camping-place, where there were both shelter and water, and he made himself a camp of bark, which he called, in the language of his tribe, a willum. he was not in a hurry when he was making it, so he did it well, and no rain could possibly come through it. one side of it was a big rock, which made it very strong, so that no wind was likely to blow it away. overhead a beautiful clump of yellow rock-lilies drooped gracefully. not that warreen cared for lilies; and this particular clump annoyed him, for the rock was too steep for him to climb up and eat the lily-roots.

he had been living there for some time, very lazy and contented, when one day mirran appeared. at first warreen thought he meant to fight, and that also annoyed him, because he hated fighting. but mirran soon showed him that he only wanted to be friends; and then warreen discovered that he was very glad to have some one with whom he could talk. so after the manner of men, they sat down and yarned all day.

several times during the day mirran said, "i must be going." but warreen always answered, "oh, don't go yet"; and they went on talking harder than ever. night came, and mirran said, "it is really time i made a move." warreen said, "why not stay the night? i can put you up." they talked it over for a while, and then it was quite too late for mirran to go. so he stayed all night, and in the morning warreen said, "why not spare me a few days, now that you are here?" mirran willingly agreed to this, for he had nothing to do, and he thought it very nice of warreen to put the invitation that way.

they became great friends. mirran was tall and thin and sinewy, while warreen was very short and dumpy, and exceedingly fat. also, he was lazy, and he liked having some one to help him get food, at which mirran was very quick and clever.

mirran also was the last of his tribe. the others had been killed by warlike blacks, and mirran would have been killed also, but that he managed to swim across a river and get away into the scrub. he was very active and fleet of foot, and delighted in running, which was an exercise that bored warreen very badly. soon they made an arrangement by which mirran did all the hunting, while warreen dug for yams and other roots, and prepared the food, just as a woman does. it suited them both very well.

mirran had one peculiarity that warreen at first thought exceedingly foolish. he did not like to sleep indoors. it was summer time when he came, and he would not build himself a willum, but slept upon a soft bed of grass under the stars. if a cold night came, or even a rainy one, he rolled himself in his 'possum rug and slept just as happily. warreen began by thinking he was mad. but as time went on he often slept outside with mirran, himself, especially on those nights when they were talking very hard and did not want to leave off. warreen used to grumble at the hardness of the ground, but he was really very much better for staying outside, in the fresh night-air. his little willum was a very stuffy place.

sometimes he would think about the winter, and say to mirran:

"when are you going to build your willum?"

"oh, there is plenty of time," mirran would say.

"the cold weather will be here, and then what will you do?"

"oh, i expect i shall have my camp ready in time. it will not take me long to build it, when the time comes."

"if you are not very careful, you will find yourself caught by the winter, and you will not like that," said warreen. but mirran only laughed and talked about something else. he hated building, and was anxious to put it off as long as possible.

warreen had a very suspicious mind, and it often made him believe very stupid things. he was the kind of man who was best living alone, because so often he got foolish ideas into his head about other people, and imagined he had cause for offence when there was really none at all. so he began to wonder why mirran would not build a camp, and the thought came to him that perhaps he did not intend to build at all, but meant to take possession of his own willum. of course, that was ridiculous, for mirran was only lazy, and kept saying to himself, "to-morrow i will build"; and when to-morrow came, he would say, "oh, it is beautiful weather; i need not worry about building for a few days yet." so he went on putting it off, and warreen went on being suspicious, until sometimes he felt sorry he had ever asked mirran to live with him. but mirran sang and joked, and hunted, and had no idea that warreen was making himself uneasy by such stupid thoughts.

one night, clouds came drifting over the sky, after a hot day, and warreen said, "i am not going to sleep outside to-night."

"i don't think it will rain," said mirran. "it is much cooler out here."

"yes, but one soon forgets that when one is asleep. i hate getting wet," said warreen.

"well, just as you like," mirran answered. "for my part, i am too fond of the stars to leave them." so he spread his 'possum rug in a soft place, and lay down. in a few minutes he was fast asleep, and warreen went off to bed feeling rather bad-tempered, though he could not have told why.

in the night, heavy rain came, and the air grew rapidly very cold. mirran woke up, grumbled a little at the weather, rolled himself in his 'possum rug and crept into the most sheltered corner he could find by the rock, not liking to disturb warreen by going into the willum. it was too cold to sleep, so he soon uncovered the ashes of their camp fire, and put sticks on it; and there he crouched, shivering, and wishing warreen would wake up and invite him to sleep in the shelter.

but the rain came more and more heavily and a keen wind arose; and a sudden squall put out mirran's fire. soon, little channels of water were finding their way in every direction over the hard ground, so that mirran became very wet and half-frozen. then he noticed a red glow inside the willum.

"that is good," he said, joyfully, "warreen is awake, and has made himself a fire. now he will ask me to go and lie down in his hut."

he crouched close by the rock for a long time, thinking each moment that warreen would ask him in. but no sound came, and after a while he came to the conclusion that warreen could not know he was awake. so he got up and went over to the door of the willum and looked in. the little fire was burning redly, and all looked very cosy and inviting to poor, frozen mirran. warreen lay near the fire, and looked at him suspiciously.

"ky! what a night!" said mirran, his teeth chattering. "you were right about the weather, warreen, and i was wrong. i have been very sorry for the last hour that my camp is not built. may i come in and sit in that corner?"

there was not much vacant space in warreen's little willum, but it was quite big enough for two at a pinch. in the corner to which mirran pointed there was nothing. but warreen looked at him suspiciously, and grunted under his breath.

"i want that corner for my head," he said, at last. and he turned over and laid his head there.

mirran looked rather surprised.

"never mind; this place will do," he said, pointing to another corner.

"i want that place for my feet," warreen said. and he moved over and laid his feet there.

still mirran could not understand that his friend meant to be so churlish.

"well, this place will suit me famously," he said, pointing to where warreen's feet had been.

but that did not please warreen either.

"you can't have that place—i may want it later on," he said, with a snarl. and he turned and lay down between the fire and mirran, and shut his eyes.

then mirran realized that warreen did not mean him to have any warmth or shelter, and he lost his temper. he rushed outside into the wet darkness, and stumbled over a big stone. that was not a lucky stumble for warreen, for all that mirran wanted at the moment was a weapon.

he picked up the stone and ran back into the willum. warreen lay by the fire and he flung the stone at him as hard as he could. it hit warreen on the forehead, and immediately his forehead went quite flat.

"that's something for you to remember me by!" said mirran angrily. "you can keep your dark little hole of a willum and live in it always, just as you can keep your flat forehead. i have done with you!"

he turned and ran out of the hut, for he was afraid that if he stayed he would kill warreen. behind him, warreen staggered to his feet and caught hold of his spear, which leaned against the wall near the doorway. he did not make any reply, but he drove the spear into the darkness after mirran, and it hit him in the back and hung there. mirran fell down without a word. the light from the fire shone on him as he lay there in the rain, with the spear behind him.

warreen laughed a little, holding by his door-post.

"i shall have a flat forehead, shall i?" he said. "well, you will have more than that. where that spear sticks, there shall it stick always, and it will be a tail for you. you will never run or jump without it again—and never shall you have a willum." then he had no more strength left, so he crept back and lay beside his fire, while mirran lay in the pouring rain.

no one saw warreen and mirran again as men. but from that time two new animals came into the bush, and the magpie and the minah, those two inquisitive birds who know everything, soon found out their story and told it to all the black people. so everybody knows that warreen, the wombat, and mirran, the kangaroo, were once men and lived together. they do not live together now, nor do they like each other. the wombat is fat and surly and lazy, and he lives in a dark, ill-smelling hole in the ground. his forehead is flat, and he does not go far from his hole; and he is no more fond of working for his living than he was when he lived in a willum as a man. the kangaroo lives in the free open places, and races through the bush as swiftly as mirran used to race long ago. but always behind him he carries moo-ee-boo, as the blacks call his tail, and it has grown so that he has to use it in running and jumping, and now he could not get on without it. he is just as quick and gentle as ever, but when he is angry he can fight with his forepaws, just as a man fights with his hands.

other animals of the bush have holes and hiding-places, but the kangaroo has none. he does not look for shelter, but sleeps in the open air. it is difficult to see him, for when he is eating young leaves and grass his skin looks just the same colour as the trees, and you are sometimes quite close to him before his bright eyes are seen watching you eagerly. then he turns and hops away, faster than a horse can gallop, in great bounds that carry him yards at every stride, with moo-ee-boo, his long tail, thumping the ground behind him. he has learned to use it—to balance on it and make it help him in those immense leaps that no animal in the bush can equal. so warreen did not do him so bad a turn as he hoped when he threw his spear at him that rainy night long ago.