Through Forest and Stream Part 20

But though we discovered and shot numbers of the most beautiful birds, many of them quite new to both, we saw no sign of those we sought, and at last my uncle had decided that we must move a few miles higher, when a discovery was made which sent a thrill of hopefulness through us, and we began exploring and shooting more eagerly than ever, devoting each morning to the task and the evenings to skinning and preserving, till our selection of beautiful skins began to grow to an extent far greater than we had intended.

Meanwhile we had been living a gloriously free and happy life; expeditions had been made twice to the boat for more necessaries, which were supplemented by an abundant supply of birds and fishes, the upper waters being so full of the latter that it was an easy task of a morning for Pete and me to catch enough for a meal.

But we had a few unpleasant experiences. Twice over we found that rattlesnakes had been attracted by the fire and had taken possession of quarters in our tent, for which, as they viciously showed fight, they were condemned to death and executed.

One morning, too, on waking, I caught sight of peculiar marks on the loose dry sand, a smooth deep furrow having been made, to which I drew my uncle's attention.

"We ought to hunt out the creature which made that, Nat," said my uncle.

"Rather an unpleasant neighbour to have. Why, the fellow that marked that trail must be a good eighteen feet long."

It, too, suffered for its temerity, for it came again, and was seen by Pete on awaking in the morning, when he cautiously drew my attention to the monster's presence near the fire.

The next minute a couple of shots from my double gun rang out, and the huge serpent was writhing and twining among the bushes, and beating them flat by blows from its powerful tail.

Cross skinned it when it was dead, saying that he must have it for a curiosity if we did not, and probably it stretched a little in the process, for it proved to be a python, twenty feet in length and enormously thick.

It was the very next day when we were about to move, the visit of the python and the possibility of one from its mate having decided our immediate change, after a final tramp round in search of the birds we wanted.

But we had no more luck than usual. We could have shot plenty of specimens, but not those we sought, and we were nearing our camp when all at once what I took to be a pigeon dashed out of a tree, and meaning it for a roast, my gun flew to my shoulder, I fired hastily, and the bird fell.

"Uncle!" I cried, as I picked it out dead from among a clump of ferns.

"A quetzal!" shouted my uncle excitedly, for it was a scarlet-breasted bird, with back and wing, coverts of a glorious golden-green.

"But you said that they had tails three or four feet long."

"Yes," said my uncle; "the kind I want to find have, while this is only short; but here is proof that we are working in the right direction."

"Then we must stop here, uncle," I cried.

"Yes, Nat, it would be madness to leave. We must wait till the right ones come."

That bird's wonderfully oily and tender skin was carefully stripped off in the evening, and it had a drying box all to itself, one made expressly by Cross, who confided to me that it was the finest bird he had ever seen.

"Some of they humming-birds is handsome enough," he said, "but there's nothing of 'em. This one's grand. Now, if I could only find that there chopper as Pete lost--"

"Didn't lose it," growled Pete.

"--I should be," continued the carpenter, severely, "a happy man.

Aren't you, sir?"

"No," I said; "nor shall be till I shoot some with tails three feet long."

The finding of this specimen completely, as I have said, changed our plans.

"It would be folly to go away now, Nat," repeated my uncle, "for at any moment we may find quite a flock."

This was one afternoon, when we had returned after an unsuccessful hunt, to take out our treasure and gloat over its wonderful plumage.

"Yes," I said; "but it's very tiresome, all this failure. Perhaps this is the only one for hundreds of miles."

"Nonsense!" cried my uncle. "I daresay, if the truth were known, we pa.s.s scores of them every day, sitting after the fashion of these trogons, perfectly still like a ball of feathers, watching us, and with their green plumage so like that of the leaves that we might go by hundreds of times and not see them."

"Oh!" I cried, "we could not pa.s.s one of them. The sun would make those beautiful golden-green wing coverts flash again."

"In the sunshine, my boy, but they rest in the deep shade. We shall come upon them yet, and find out their habits. Then all will be easy.

Anyone searching for birds of paradise in New Guinea might go scores of times without success, and come away and say there are none. Just as it is in Australia: at one time of year flocks of the great white and sulphur c.o.c.katoos can be found; at another time you may search the same district for months and not see one."

"Yes, uncle," I said wearily, for I was tired after a long walk in the hot sun pestered by flies; "and I suppose there are plenty of birds about here that we have not seen. Why, of course, we haven't seen Pete's wonderful specimen yet."

"No," said my uncle drily, "and I shall be very much surprised if we ever do."

"Do you think there is nothing of the kind, then?" I said.

"I don't like to be positive, but I should say that he made that bird out of his own head."

"Oh, I don't think so, uncle," I replied; "Pete's very honest and straightforward."

"Yes, but he lets his brain run riot, Nat. He saw some bird, I do not doubt, but not clothed and ornamented as he says."

"There are birds with brightly-coloured tails such as he said?"

"Are there?" said my uncle drily. "I think not. If there be I should like a specimen; it would be an exciting display for the learned bird-lovers in London to gaze at. Don't you see, my boy, he furnished the specimen he saw with the tail plumage of three different varieties of the macaw--the green the blue, and the red. Pete's eyes played tricks with him that time. I wish he would see the long floating feathers of a quetzal flashing its green and gold and purple in the sunshine."

"So do I, uncle," I replied. "I wish we could find and shoot dozens of them, but I don't long for the task of skinning them; they are so delicate and likely to tear."

"Like all the birds related to the cuckoos," said my uncle; "but we were very successful over this. By the way, Pete is getting very handy in that way. We must trust him with some of the commoner things, for it seems as if after all we shall have to fill up with the best of the less-known birds."

"Oh, no," I said, as I carefully smoothed down the loose silky plumage of our solitary specimen. "We're tired now. When we have had a good wash and our tea-dinner we shall feel different."

I carefully put away the trogon, and crossed to where Pete was busy getting the kettle to boil, and making other preparations for our evening meal. No light task, for his fire troubled him a good deal, and he began about it at once.

"What I want, Master Nat," he said, "is some regular good stiff clay to make up into bricks. They'd bake hard. As for these stones I build up a fireplace and oven with, some go bang and fly off in splinters, and the other sort moulders all away into dust--regular lime, you know, that fizzles and cisses when it's cold and you pour water over it, and then comes hot again."

"Try some of those pieces out of the river bed."

"I have, sir, and they're worst of all. I say, Master Nat, stop and see that the pot don't boil over. I want to go down and get some fresh, clean water."

"Don't be long, then," I cried. "I say, what's in the pot?"

"d.i.c.ky bird stoo!" said Pete, grinning. "No touching while I'm gone."

He caught up the bucket and started off down the cliff-side towards the river, while I idly watched him till he was out of sight, and sat back away from the glow of the fire, for I was hot enough without that.

Then I naturally began thinking about the splendid trogons, and whether there was any likely place near that we had not well hunted through.

"Lots," I said to myself. "They're here to-day and gone to-morrow.

That's the way with birds, except when they have nests. They go about according to where they can find food. Hullo! He can't have got to the water in this short time."