is the cock that does the
"bricking up," Saloo said, bringing the "mortar" from the banks of some
neighbouring pool or stream and laying it on with his beak. He begins
the task as soon as the hen takes her seat upon her solitary egg. The
hen is kept in her prison not only during the full period of incubation,
but long after; in fact, until the young chick becomes a full fledgling,
and can fly out of itself. During all this time the imprisoned bird is
entirely dependent on her mate for every morsel of food required, either
by herself or for the sustenance of the nursling, and, of course, has to
trust to his fidelity, in which he never fails. The hornbills, however,
like the eagles, and many other rapacious birds, though not otherwise of
a very amiable disposition, are true to the sacred ties of matrimony.
So said Saloo, though not in this exact phraseology.

"But what if the ould cock shud get killed?" suggested Murtagh.
"Supposin' any accident was to prevint him from returnin' to the nest?
Wud the hen have to stay there an' starve?"

Saloo could not answer this question. It was a theory he had never
thought of, or a problem that had not come under his experience.
Possibly it might be so; but it was more likely that her imprisonment
within the tree cave, being an act agreed to on her part, was more
apparent than real, and that she could break through the mud barricade,
and set herself free whenever she had a mind to do so.

This was the more probable view of the case, and terminated the
discussion on natural history; or rather, it was brought to a close by
their perceiving that the bird upon the bamboo stake was done to a turn,
and they were by this time too hungry to think of anything else than
eating it.

So off it came from the spit, and at it they went with a will, Saloo
acting as carver, and distributing the roast joints all around, taking
care to give the tenderest bits of breast to the children, and to Helen
the liver wing.

They were all very cheerful in commencing their supper, but their strain
was changed to sadness even before they had finished it.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

SICK AFTER SUPPER.

It was near upon sundown when the roast fowl was taken from the spit,
carved, and distributed among them. The fire over which they had cooked
it was close to the trunk of the tree under whose shade they intended to
pass the night. It was not the one they had chosen after being driven
from the durion, but