It was not upon that occasion that Karl communicated to his companions
all these interesting facts in relation to the great lily. Many of them
he had made known long before--especially that the seeds of the plant
were eatable; and both Caspar and Ossaroo had often proved to their own
satisfaction that they were something more than eatable--in short, a
great delicacy.
It was from a knowledge of this fact that the thoughts of all three were
now turned upon the lilies--whose huge roseate corollas, no longer seen
glistening above the surface of the water, proclaimed that the "beans"
were ripe, and ready for "shelling."
The three were about starting from the hut to reap this aquatic
harvest--which, judging from the quantity of seed-pods that appeared
above the surface, promised to be abundant.
Each had provided himself with a rush basket--which the shikaree had
woven, during the long winter nights, for other purposes; but as they
were of just the size and shape to hold the Pythagorean beans they were
now to be employed in that capacity.
Both Karl and Caspar had rolled up their trowsers to mid-thigh; so as
not to wet them while wading among the lilies; but Ossaroo, not being
provided with any nether garment entitled to the name of trowsers, had
simply tucked up the skirt of his cotton tunic, making it fast under his
girdle.
In this guise all three proceeded round the shore of the lake, to that
side where they would be nearest the bed of lilies. The water-hens,
seeing them make their approach, rose from their perch upon the leaves,
and fluttered off to seek a more secure shelter among the sedge.
The aquatic gleaners at once waded in; and commenced picking off the
pods, and shelling them into their rush baskets. They had been there
before, and knew there was no danger in the depth of the water.
They had nearly filled their respective sacks with the Pythagorean
beans, and were meditating a return to dry land, when a dark shadow
passing over the tranquil surface of the lake--closely followed by
another of similar size and shape--attracted their attention.
All three saw the shadows at the same instant of time; and all
simultaneously looked up to ascertain what sort of creatures were
casting them. In the sky above they beheld a spectacle, calculated to
inspire them with feelings of a strange interest.
Right above the lake, and also over their heads, a brace of large birds
was circling in the air. Each was borne up by a pair of huge wings full
five yards from tip to tip; while from the body, between, a neck of
enormous length was extended horizontally--prolonged into a
tapering-pointed beak, in shape like the seed-pistil of a pelargonium.
Their beaks might well have been compared to the pistil of a
pelargonium; or rather the latter should be assimilated to them; since
it is from this species of birds, the flower has derived its botanical
cognomen.
The birds were _storks_. Not the ordinary _Ciconia_, that makes its
home among the Hollanders--or finds a still more welcome hospitality on
the roof-tree of the Hungarian by the plains of the _Puszta_--but a
stork of far grander dimensions; in short, a stork that is the _tallest_
of his tribe--the _Adjutant_.
On looking up, Karl recognised the species; so did Caspar, and at a
glance. It required no lengthened scrutiny--no profound knowledge of
natural history, to identify the noted _adjutant_. It only needed to
have seen him before either in _propria persona_, or in a picture; but
both brothers had seen specimens of the bird, in full flesh and feather,
on the plains of India--in the environs of Calcutta itself.
As to the shikaree, was it likely he should be mistaken about the
character of those winged giants--those tall scavengers he had seen
thousands of times stalking pompously along the sandy shores of the
sacred Ganges? It was not possible for him, to have a doubt about the
identity of the birds, who were now throwing their shadows over that
lone lake of the Himalayas. He had no doubt. The very certainty that
the birds above him were the gigantic cranes of the Ganges--the sacred
birds of Brahma--caused him to utter a sort of frenzied shout, and at
the same time, dropping his "sack of beans" into the water!
He needed not to look at the colour of the birds, to note that they were
brown black above, and white underneath. The naked vulture neck with
its pouch-like appendage of brick-red hue; the silken feathers of bluish
white under the tail--those precious plumes well-known and worn by the
ladies of many lands under the appellation of _marabout feathers_--all
were recognised at a glance.
Even quicker than either of his youthful comrades had the Hindoo
identified the birds. A single glance sufficed, and simultaneously with
that glance had the cry fallen from his lips, and the sack of
Pythagorean beans from his grasp.
The birds were flying slowly, and to all appearance _laboriously_: as if
wearied of wing. They appeared to be in search of some roost on which
to repose themselves.
That they had entered the valley with this intention was made evident a
few moments after: for having made a circuit round the little lake, both
at the same instant ceased to ply their long pinions, and drawing their
wings suddenly in to their bodies, they settled down upon the shore.
The spot upon which they had chosen to alight was the prominence
terminating a little peninsula that protruded out almost to the bed of
lilies, and from which the three waders had themselves descended into
the water. As the latter now stood knee-deep among the aquatic plants,
they were distant not more than twenty paces from the point of this
peninsula.
The storks, after alighting, stood upon the shore in erect attitudes--
apparently as unconcerned about the presence of our three adventurers,
as if the latter were only overgrown stalks of the Pythagorean bean--
utterly incapable of doing them an injury.