yself. "They're here to-day and gone to-morrow.
That's the way with birds, except when they have nests. They go about
according to where they can find food. Hullo! He can't have got to the
water in this short time."

For I had caught sight of Pete hurrying back, and as soon as he saw me
watching him climbing up from below he begun to make signs to me not to
speak.

"What has he found?" I said to myself, for he was creeping up nearly
bent double and moving with the greatest caution.

I rose to go down to him, but at the slightest movement he waved his
hand to me to keep back; so I waited till he came up, panting, his face
covered with the great drops of perspiration.

"Seen a big snake?" I said, laughing.

"No," he whispered; "don't make a noise. I've seen the troghums."

"What!" I cried excitedly.

"Don't," he whispered, "or you may frighten 'em again."

"But do you mean to say you've seen some of the beautiful trogons?"

"No," he panted, "not them; I've seen two or three of them other birds
with the green and yellow and blue cocked-up tails, same as I saw before
and you couldn't find."

"Where are they?" I cried eagerly, for it was evident that he had seen
something new in the way of birds.

"Down below in the path we cut away to get to the water. They're behind
the low bushes, three or four of 'em, and I could see their tails
cocking up over the top. Guns, quick, 'fore they're gone and you say I
was dreaming again."

I uttered a low chirruping signal which brought my uncle and Cross to
hear the news, and the next minute we had seized our guns.

None too soon, for we were hardly ready before Pete pointed triumphantly
downward towards a clump of ferns some twenty yards away, where I
distinctly saw something move.

"Now, aren't there no birds with tails like that?" he whispered, and I
saw plainly in three places just such feathers as he had described rise
into sight; but they were not the tails of birds, being the fantastic
feather tiaras of Indians, whose dark faces rose now full in our view.

The next moment we saw that they were armed with bows, and I had hardly
realised this when there was a twanging sound, the whizz of arrows, and
I uttered a cry of pain.

It was as if a red-hot iron had passed through my shoulder, and my cry
was echoed by an Indian yell.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

ATTACKED BY INDIANS.

My pang of agony was accompanied by a feeling of rage against the cause
of it, and