“But I wish you would tell me all about that big black hole,” pointing to Mr Wombat’s home.

Mr Wombat at once came and sat down beside Blinky and started to tell him the story.

“Well,” he began, “I’ve lived here for many years now. Long ago I lived out in the open near Farmer Brown’s house; but it became too dangerous. He was a bad-tempered man, and had no time for a wombat. He sowed his fields full of potatoes and peas, and juicy carrots and turnips, then expected a wombat to look at them and not come near.”

“How silly!” interrupted Blinky. “I’d have eaten all his peas up in one mouthful.”

Mr Wombat turned suddenly to have a look at Blinky’s mouth, then shrugged his shoulders and went on with his story.

“Yes, he was silly. He even fenced his paddocks with very strong wire, and didn’t I laugh to myself as I lay behind an old tree-stump hearing men digging in the hot sunshine, then ramming down posts and nailing wire all round them.”

“What did you do?” Blinky inquired.

“I don’t think I’ll come in Mr Wombat,” said Blinky in a quiet voice.

“I waited until the night came, as I’m as blind as a bat during the day, then I crept silently over to the new fence, and had a look at it. Poof! I burrowed under it in a few minutes and had a great supper of potato roots; then just to show Farmer Brown how strong I was, I burrowed another hole from the inside of the fence to get out again. In the morning as I lay in bed I heard Farmer Brown and his men shouting loudly and using very strange words.

“One night I had a narrow escape. Carefully treading over the ground, I had just reached my favourite roots, when, snap! something caught the tip of my toe. I howled with pain and rage. What new trick was this of Farmer Brown’s? Then to make matters worse men came running from all directions, shouting and calling at the top of their voices. Dear me, how excited they were — and all over a wombat in a potato patch!”

“What did you do?” asked Blinky breathlessly.

“Huh! I just gave a tug at my paw, and out it came. I lost a toenail — but what’s that! Then the excitement rose. Guns began to crack and a bullet flew past me very close to my ear — too close for my liking. Fortunately for me it was a dark night, with only the stars overhead, and luckily I remembered just where my burrow was under the fence. I raced along, wild calls coming behind me and heavy boots thudding the ground. But I won! Under the fence I rushed; out the other side, and into the bush I raced. I did not stop at my home; but kept running for miles, as far away from Farmer Brown as I could manage. When I finally fell down exhausted, my foot was causing me a great deal of pain, so I licked it for a long time and then fell asleep. After that adventure I decided to look for a new home, and here I am.”

“Well, you’re safe here, Mr Wombat,” said Blinky. “And if I were you I’d stay here and never wander again.”

“I’m safe enough,” replied Mr Wombat. “But the food is not up to much, and pretty dry in the summer; but I manage to scrape along. I’m not in fear of my life like my grandparents were.”

“Why, what happened to them?” Blinky asked anxiously.

“They lived up in the north-west,” said Mr Wombat, “a wild place if you like! The black people there used to hunt them with yam-sticks. Poor grandad and grandma were in constant danger of being killed.”

“How?” asked Blinky.

“Well,” continued Mr Wombat, “the black people would go out in hunting parties and when a wombat-hole was found a boy was usually chosen to go down feet first. As he wriggled his way down the burrow he tapped on the roof of the tunnel with his hands. Those above the ground were listening and followed the taps as he went, until at last when the boy’s feet touched a wombat, he would give a signal and then the men above would quickly dig down into the earth and right on to the wombat. A few moments and he was dead. No chance of escape at all —”

“It’s just as well for you, Mr Wombat, there are no black fellows here,” said Blinky.

“And just as well for you too!” replied his new friend. “But where are you going, anyway? You haven’t told me yet.

“Well, I don’t know,” Blinky said in a doubtful tone. “Do you know of any adventures round here?”

“Adventures! What do you mean exactly?” Mr Wombat asked.

“Oh, you know — things to see — not gum-leaves all the time,” replied Blinky.

“Ho, ho,” laughed Mr Wombat.