, and brought
it back to where the Indian was sitting nursing his wounded leg, took
off the lid, and carefully withdrew the trogon.

"Is that the sort of bird you mean?" I said.

"Hah!" he said, in a long-drawn cry, full of the satisfaction he felt,
and both he and his wife chattered to me eagerly, Mapah shaking her
head, though, and pointing at the bird's tail with one dusky hand,
before holding both out before me a yard apart.

"You've seen them with tails as long as that?" I said, placing my hand
by the caudal feathers of our one specimen, and then slowly drawing it
away till it was some distance off.

"Hah!" cried the Indian again, and he laughed and chatted, and pointed
across the river to the south, while his wife took off her feather
crown, held it before me, and drew each long feather through her hand as
if stretching it to three feet in length, and then touched the
golden-green plumage of our solitary specimen.

The trogon was carefully put away, the kingfisher laid to dry, and then
I could hardly contain myself till my uncle's return, well laden with
ducks and a dusky bird that was evidently a half-grown turkey.

"Tired out, Nat," he said, throwing down the birds, for Mapah and her
husband to seize and begin to pluck for our evening meal. "We must make
a fresh start."

"Why?" I said quietly.

"Because we have shot the only trogon in the district, and we are
wasting time here."

"Nonsense," I said; "there are plenty more."

"If we could find them," he replied wearily.

I had intended to keep him waiting longer, but I could not hold back
what I felt certain I had discovered, and hurrying to the case I brought
out the precious specimen and made Mapah and her husband go through the
whole pantomime again.

"Why, Nat," cried my uncle excitedly, while Pete and Cross looked on,
"it's as plain as a pikestaff: these people are quite familiar with the
long-tailed species--_resplendens_--and they could take us to places
where they could be found."

"That's it, uncle," I cried, and Pete and Cross joined in a hearty
cheer.

"Oh, but to think of it--the misery and disappointment," cried my uncle:
"that poor fellow will not be able to walk and act as guide for a month,
and it may be a hundred miles away."

"That don't matter, sir," cried Pete; "he's only a little chap. Me and
Bill Cross'll take it in turns pig-a-backing him; won't we mate?"

"We will that, Pete, lad," cried the carpenter, and somehow