said, for I was more interested in knowing
how long I should have to watch in the darkness than in the flight of a
bird.

"Like to know exactly, Nat?" said my uncle.

"Of course," I said, wonderingly.

"You shall, then, my boy. It's ten minutes, thirty seconds, past six."

"Nonsense, uncle!" I cried. "The old watch must have stopped. Did you
forget to wind it up?"

For answer he held it to my ear, and it was ticking loudly, while as he
lowered it and I glanced at the face, I could see that the second hand
had moved some distance on.

"Do you think it is right?" I said.

"Yes; we were fagged out last night and slept very soundly. You'll soon
know, for it will be daylight directly."

Both the watch and my uncle were right--for the scream of a parrot
reached my ears soon after, followed by whistlings and pipings from the
forest; while soon after a horribly harsh grating screech came from
overhead, and I caught a glimpse of the bird which uttered it--one of
the great long-tailed Aras, on its way with three or four more to a
favourite part of the forest.

"Going figging, Nat," said my uncle, putting some more wood on the fire,
not for the sake of the light--for away across the sea the dawn was
brightening fast, after the way of sunrise and sunset in tropic lands;
and even as I looked there, far on high, was a faint fleck of orange
light on a tiny cloud. A few minutes later there were scores, and the
birds were singing and chirping in all directions, even the sea
furnishing the screams and peculiar cries of the various ducks and
gulls.

"How glorious!" I said softly, for the beauty of the scene around in
the glow of the morning light made me forget the darkness of the night
and the terrors that it brought.

"Yes, Nat; we've hit upon birdland the first try," said my uncle. "But
it seems as if we shall have to leave it unless we can be sure that the
Indians are friendly."

As he spoke, we both examined the footprints again.

"Savage marks for certain, Nat," said my uncle. "Do you see? These
fellows have not been in the habit of wearing shoes."

"Yes, I see," I replied. "The big toe so wide away from the others."

"You see that at a glance. I suppose it would be unwise to follow them;
they would hear us coming, and might send a couple of arrows into us--
perhaps poisoned. It's a pity Nat; for there are plenty of birds about,
and we could get some good specimens.--Yes; what is it?"

"They've be