warm and
furry, which began to stir about and utter a whining, mewing noise.

He snatched away his hand in dread, then extended it again to begin
feeling his discovery.

"Pups!" he exclaimed. "Kittens I mean! Two of them; fine fat ones,
too. They're harmless enough if their mother does not come back," and
going on patting and feeling the little animals, he fully realised now
the reason for their mother's ferocity, though he felt that it might
have been their father.

"No," he said, half aloud, "it must have been the mother, for she would
make her nursery somewhere in hiding, for fear that papa should want to
play Saturn, and eat his children up."

The cubs whined softly a little, and nestled their soft heads against
his hand. Then they sank down in the nest-like hollow of a decayed limb
of the tree and went to sleep, while Oliver Lane found a tough vine-like
stem behind which he was able to tuck his piece safely. And a few
moments after, regardless of volcanoes, earthquakes, tidal waves, foul
gases, and ferocious beasts, the young naturalist went off fast asleep,
and did not stir till he heard, mingled with his dreams, the shrill
shrieking of a flock of paroquets, which were climbing about among the
smaller branches of the tree high overhead, and feasting upon the fast
ripening figs.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

PLUTONIC ACTION.

It took Oliver Lane some time to pass from a sound sleep gradually
through half-waking dreams to the full knowledge of his position, and
then, albeit somewhat cramped and stiff, feeling rested and bright, he
lay back listening to the calls and answers of the birds, and watching
them with a true naturalist's intense delight. For there he was in the
very position he had longed to reach, right amongst nature's gems in
their own abode, full of life and vigour. He had seen these birds
before, but as attractively-plumaged dry specimens. Here they were
hanging, crawling, and climbing about, busy, with every feather in
motion, their eyes bright, and beaks and claws all abloom with colour.
Now their feathers were tightly pressed to their softly-curved bodies,
now standing almost on end, giving the birds a round, plump aspect that
was delightful when the sun gleamed through, and flashed from the golden
green, bright scarlet, or vivid blue, with which they had been painted
by nature's loving hand. Others were entirely of a beautiful green, all
save their heads, which glowed with a peach bloom