of the museum, by Jones Harvey's request, then closely
examined the chickens. There could be no doubt of it, they unanimously
asserted: these specimens were living deinornithe (which for scientific
men, is not a bad shot at the dual of deinornis). The American continent
was now endowed, through the enterprise of Mr. Jones Harvey, not only
with living specimens, but with a probable breed of a species hitherto
thought extinct.

The cheering was led by Captain Funkal, who waved the Stars and Stripes
and the Union Jack. Words cannot do justice to the scene. Women
fainted, strong men wept, enemies embraced each other. For details we
must refer to the files of _The Yellow Flag_. A _plebiscite_ to select
the winner of the McCabe Prize was organised by that Journal. The Moas
(bred and exhibited by Mr. Jones Harvey) simply romped in, by 1,732,901
votes, the Mylodon being a bad second, thanks to the Irish vote.

Bude telegraphed 'Victory,' and Miss McCabe by cable answered 'Bully for
us.'

The secret of these lovers was well kept. None who watches the
fascinating Countess of Bude as she moves through the gilded saloons of
Mayfair guesses that her hand was once the prize of success in a
scientific exploration. The identity of Jones Harvey remains a puzzle to
the learned. For the rest, a letter in which Jenkins told the story of
the Berbalangs was rejected by the Editor of _Nature_, and has not yet
passed even the Literary Committee of the Society for Psychical Research.
The classical authority on the Berbalangs is still the paper by Mr.
Skertchley in the _Journal_ of the Asiatic Society of Bengal. {242}The
scientific gentlemen who witnessed the onslaught of the Berbalangs have
convinced themselves (except Jenkins) that nothing of the sort occurred
in their experience. The evidence of Captain Funkal is rejected as
'marine.'

Te-iki-pa decided to remain in New York as custodian of the Moas. He
occasionally obliges by exhibiting a few feats of native conjuring, when
his performances are attended by the _elite_ of the city. He knows that
his countrymen hold him in feud, but he is aware that they fear even more
than they hate the ex-medicine man of his Maori Majesty.

The generosity of Bude and his Countess heaped rewards on Merton, who
vainly protested that his services had not been professional.

The frequent appearance of new American novelists, whose works sell
250,000 copies in their first month, demonstrate th