“That’s very strange!” exclaimed Dick. “Whoever can it be?”
“Will you move on, there?” shouted the voice, louder than ever, and, looking up into the trees, the children saw a huge green parrot, with a red tail, hanging down from one of the branches by one claw, while he shook the other at them menacingly.
“Bah! it’s only a parrot,” said the Dodo, in a contemptuous voice.
“What!” screamed the bird; “only a parrot, indeed. Who are you, I should like to know?”
“We’re tourists,” said the Dodo, importantly. “These—ahem—gentlemen, and this lady and myself, are on our way to visit the Ichthyosaurus, while you are merely a common or garden parrot, and not at all fit and proper person for us to be seen talking to. Come along,” he added to the others, grandly, and started to walk off with his beak in the air.
“Hoity, toity! Not so fast,” said the parrot. “I’ve no doubt you think yourself very grand with your kid gloves and your consequential airs; but allow me to inform you that I am some one of consequence in these parts, too. I am a police officer, and regulate the traffic, so move on, there, and don’t block the way.”
“Oh!” cried Marjorie, “if this—er—” (she was going to say “bird,” but thought perhaps the parrot might be offended, and she certainly couldn’t say “gentleman,” so she got out of it this way)—“if this is a police officer, perhaps he could be kind enough to direct us to where the steamboats start for England.”
“I daresay I could if I wanted to,” said the parrot, ungraciously, “but I don’t choose. Move on! You are stopping the traffic.”
“What nonsense! you ridiculous bird; there is not any traffic,” said Dick.
“Oh! isn’t there? A lot you know about it,” replied the parrot. “There’s a vehicle coming along this way now.”