When I opened my eyes again the sea was dancing and sparkling, and the
leaves waving gently in the soft warm breeze. I could see from where I
lay that the water was rippling gently upon the sand, and not far from
the hut door my uncle was busy skinning some bright-plumaged bird, while
Ebo was cooking a couple of pigeons, and watching a little kettle stuck
amongst the glowing ashes.
I was very comfortable, and did not feel disposed to move, for all
seemed so calm and pleasant; and when I thought a little about my
previous night's fancies I was ready to smile at them as being perfectly
absurd.
I did not speak, but lay quite still, gazing at the lovely picture
framed by the open door, and thinking how beautiful it all was, and how
foolish I had been to go on fancying such dangers as I had in the night.
Then it was very pleasant, too, to watch Uncle Dick, and how very much
quicker and cleverer he was at making a skin than I was. Still, I hoped
by practice to get to be as quick.
He went on till he had dressed the interior of the skin with the soap
preparation, and after filling certain parts with cotton-wool, and tying
the wing-bones together, he turned it back, smoothed the plumage, and I
saw that it was another of the short blue-barred kingfishers similar to
that we had obtained before.
I could not help noticing as I lay there so quietly what great care and
attention he gave to his task, seeming as if he thoroughly enjoyed his
work, and felt it to be a duty to do it well.
At last, though, it was put away to dry, and after carefully washing his
hands he came to the hut door very gently to see if I was awake.
"Ah, Nat," he said smiling, "how are you after your long sleep?"
"Long sleep, uncle!" I cried. "Is it very late?"
"Nearly noon, my boy. Well, how are you?"
"I--I think I'm quite well, thank you, uncle," I said, springing up, and
feeling ashamed to be lying there, but turning so giddy that I should
have fallen had Uncle Dick not caught my arm.
"Sit down," he said quietly. "There, that is better."
"Yes; I feel better now," I said.
"To be sure you do. Well, Nat, I think we have beaten the fever. You
will feel weak for a day or two, but you will soon be all right."
And so it proved. For after two or three days of weakness, and a
strange weary feeling that was quite new to me, I rapidly got better and
felt no more dread of being alone at night; in fact I slept soundly as
could be, and got up ready and fresh for any new work.
Uncle Dick was very kind, for until I was stronger he contented himself
with shooting just about the hut, finding plenty of beautiful birds; but
as soon as I was strong enough we prepared some cold provisions and
started off for a longer exploration.
Ebo was delighted, and capered about in the excess of his joy,
chattering in his own tongue and introducing every English word he had
picked up, and these began now to be a good many; but he had very little
idea of putting them to a proper use, muddling them up terribly, but
keeping in the most perfect humour no matter how we laughed at him.
"It is my belief, Nat," said Uncle Dick, "that we shall find something
better worthy of our notice yet if we make a good long expedition into
the more wooded parts of the island."
"I thought we could not be better off, uncle," I said, "for we are
getting some lovely birds."
"So we are, Nat; but one is never satisfied, and always wants more. I
expect we shall find some birds of paradise, for it strikes me that the
cry I have heard several times at daybreak comes from one of them."
"Birds of paradise! Here, uncle?" I cried.
"Why not, my boy? It is as likely a place as it is possible to imagine:
an island near the equator, deeply wooded, and hardly ever visited by
man. I should say that we must find some here."
"Oh, uncle!" I cried as my eyes glistened, and I felt my cheeks flush
at the anticipation of seeing one of these noble birds before the muzzle
of my gun.
"I shall be greatly disappointed if we do not find some, and I should
have been in search of them before now, only I thought you would like to
go, and there was plenty of work close home."
I did not say much, but I felt very grateful at his thoughtfulness, and
the very next morning we were off before it was day, tramping through
the thick herbage and mounting the rising ground towards the south.
"I purpose trying to get right across the island to-day, Nat," he said,
"and if we are too tired to get back all the way we must contrive enough
shelter and camp out for one night in the woods."
"I shall not mind, uncle," I said, and on we went.
This time we had provided ourselves with light small baskets, such as we
could swing from a cord that passed over our right shoulders, and long
and deep enough to hold a good many specimens. We all three bore these,
Ebo's being double the size of ours, as he had no gun to use, but
trotted easily by our side with his spear over his shoulder.
Before we had gone two miles several lovely birds had fallen to our
guns, principally of the thrush family, for our way was amongst bushes
on the rising ground.
It is impossible to describe properly the beauty of these lovely
softly-feathered objects. Fancy a bird of the size of our thrush but
with a shorter tail, and instead of being olive-green and speckled with
brown, think of it as having a jetty head striped with blue and brown,
and its body a blending of buff, pale greyish blue, crimson, and black.
We kept on, taking our prizes from the baskets, where they lay in
cotton-wool, to examine and admire them again and again.
No sooner had we feasted our eyes upon these birds than something as
bright of colour fell to our guns. Now it would be a golden oriole or
some glittering sun-bird. Then a beautiful cuckoo with crimson breast
and cinnamon-brown back. Then some beautifully painted paroquet with a
delicate long taper tail; and we were in the act of examining one of
these birds, when, as we paused on the edge of a forest of great trees
by which we had been skirting, my uncle grasped my arm, for, sounding
hollow, echoing, and strange, there rang out a loud harsh cry:
"_Quauk-quauk-quauk! Qwok-qwok-qwok_!"
This was answered from a distance here and there, as if there were
several of the birds, if they were birds, scattered about the forest.
"There, Nat," said my uncle; "do you hear that?"
"Yes," I said, laughing. "I could hear it plainly enough, uncle. What
was it made by--some kind of crow?"
"Yes, Nat, some kind of crow."
"Are they worth trying to shoot, uncle?" I asked.
"Yes," he said with a peculiar smile; and then, as the cry rang out
again, apparently nearer, he signified to Ebo that he should try and
guide us in the direction of the sounds.
The black understood him well enough, and taking the lead he went on
swiftly through the twilight of the forest, for it was easy walking here
beneath the vast trees, where nothing grew but fungi and a few
pallid-looking little plants.
And so we went on and on, with the trees seeming to get taller and
taller, and of mightier girth. Now and then we caught a glimpse of the
blue sky, but only seldom, the dense foliage forming a complete screen.
Every now and then we could hear the hoarse harsh cry; but though we
went on and on for a tremendous distance, we seemed to get no nearer,
till all at once Ebo stopped short, there was the hoarse cry just
overhead, and I saw something sweep through the great branches a hundred
and fifty feet away.
I had not time to fire, for my uncle's gun made the forest echo, though
nothing fell.
"I missed it, Nat," he said, "for the branches were in my way; but I
thought I would not let the slightest chance go by."
"What was it, uncle?" I said.
"One of your crows," he replied, laughing; and Ebo went on again.
Just then my uncle glanced at his compass, and saw that we were
travelling in the right direction--due south--so it did not matter how
far we went; but though we kept hearing the cries of the crow-birds, as
I eventually called them, we saw no more, and felt disappointed for a
time, but not for long; there were too many fresh objects for our
notice.
At last daylight appeared ahead, and we came out from amongst the
trunks, which had risen up on every side of us like pillars, into a
beautiful open valley dotted with trees, some of which were green with
luxuriant branches right to the ground.
We did not spend many moments gazing at the beautiful landscape, so
lovely that I half expected to see houses there, and that it was the
result of clever gardening; but it was nature's own work, and in every
tree there were so many birds, and of such lovely kinds, that we seemed
to have come to the very place of all in the world to make our
collection.
"There, Nat, look!" said my uncle, pointing to where, in the full
sunshine, a great bird with a train of soft amber plumage flew across
the opening, to disappear amongst the trees; "there goes one of your
crows."
"That lovely buff bird, uncle?" I said; "why, it looked like what I
should think a bird of paradise would be."
"And that's what it was, undoubtedly, Nat," he said, "though I never
before saw one on the wing."
"But you said crow, uncle," I said. "Oh! of course, you said the birds
of paradise belonged to the crow family. I wish you could have shot
it."
"It would have required a rifle to hit it at that distance, Nat; but
wait a bit. We have learned one thing, and that is the fact that we
have birds of paradise here, and that satisfies me that we cannot do
better than keep to our present quarters. This place exceeds my highest
hopes for a collecting ground. There, look at that bird by the great
hollow-looking tree."
"I was looking at it, uncle. It is one of those great birds with the
big bill and a thing upon it like a deck-house."
"Yes," said my uncle, "and there is something more. Look, Ebo has gone
on. He seems to understand by our looks when he cannot make out our
words."
For Ebo had trotted forward towards the tree that had taken our
attention, where the great hornbill had flown to a dead trunk some
ten-feet from the ground, and then flapped away.