ooping
branches of a cedar tree. He feared every moment that the owner of the
voice would make his appearance. But it kept at a distance. Every few
minutes from the depths of the forest would come the doleful cry, "Who,
who are you?" Robinson did not dare to stir from his hiding place. He
remained there over night. After the night came on he heard the strange
voice no more.

The next day he renewed his journey. He saw many birds that were wholly
strange to him. There was a kind of wild pigeon that built its home in a
hole in the rock. It was a most beautiful bird with long, slender,
graceful feathers in its tail. He saw the frigate bird soaring high
above the island. The number and beauty of the humming-birds amazed
Robinson. They were of all colors. One had a bill in the shape of a
sickle. The most brilliant of them all was the ruby-crested
humming-bird.

Near noon, while Robinson was shielding himself from the scorching heat
of the sun in a deep, shaded glen, he was startled again by the strange
voice crying, "Who, who, who are you?" He lay quite still, determined if
possible to allow the voice to come, if it would, within sight. He heard
it slowly coming up the glen. Each time it repeated the cry it sounded
nearer. At last he saw spying at him through the boughs of the tree
under which he was lying a large bird with soft, silky feathers of green
and chestnut. "Who, who, who are you?" said the bird. Robinson could not
help but laugh. He had been frightened at the cry of a bird.

But the bird that interested Robinson most was the parrot. There were
several kinds of them. They flew among the trees with great noise and
clatter and shrieking. Robinson determined if possible to secure one for
a pet. "I can teach it to talk," he said, "and I will have something to
talk to." As soon as he returned home he set about catching one. He
noticed that a number were in the habit of visiting an old tree near
the shelter every morning. He planned to snare one and tried several
mornings, but he could not get one into the snare. He tried to hit one
with his bow and arrow. He at last succeeded in hitting one and stunning
it so that it fell to the ground. He ran rapidly to pick it up, but
before he could get to where it lay in the bushes it had disappeared.

After thinking the matter over he concluded that it would be much better
to get a pair of young birds and raise them. The old ones would be hard
to tame and difficult to teach. It