s said as plainly as could be:

"There is nobody here but ourselves," and as if to satisfy us he led the
way to a high hill about a mile away, from whence we had a splendid view
all but in one direction, where there lay a clump of mountains. Look
which way we would there was nothing but rich plain and dense jungle,
with occasional patches of park-like land. Not a sign was there of
huts, and once more Ebo looked at us and shook his head, counting us
afterwards in his own way--one, two, three, and then tossing his arms in
the air.

"We are in luck, Nat," said my uncle. "This island must swarm with
natural history specimens, and he has brought us here because he thought
it a good place; so now to make the best use of our time. Look out!"

As he spoke he raised his gun and fired at a bird darting down a narrow
rift between two rocks that looked as if they had been riven asunder.

I thought he had missed it, but Ebo ran ahead and returned directly with
a most lovely kingfisher in glorious plumage.

"If we get nothing more in this island, Nat, I shall be satisfied," said
my uncle as we gazed at the lovely creature which Ebo had brought; and
seeing the satisfaction in our faces he indulged in another dance.

"Yes," continued my uncle, patting Ebo's black shoulder, "you are a
treasure, Ebo, and I see we shall be greatly in your debt. Now, Nat, we
must not have a feather of that bird spoiled. I feel ready to go back
on purpose to prepare it."

It was indeed a lovely creature; but as I gazed upon its delicately
beautiful tints I felt puzzled. It was of rich purple on the back, with
azure-blue shoulders dashed and speckled with a lighter blue, while all
the under parts were of a pure white, which seemed to throw out the rich
colours of the back. But the great beauty of the specimen was its tail,
which was long and had the two centre feathers continued almost without
any plumes till the end, where they spread out like a couple of racket
bats, making the little bird in all about a foot and a half long.

I felt as if I should never tire of gazing at the beautiful specimen,
and quite understood my uncle's feeling about wishing to make sure of it
by preserving it at once.

Just then, though, a large bird flew across, at which I fired, but it
was too far distant, and the shots did no more than rattle about its
feathers.

"Did you see its great beak, uncle?" I said.

"Yes, Nat, a hornbill. I daresay we shall find pl