“Yes, sir, won’t it do?” said Smith, winking at Wriggs once more.
“There, be off with you, and take the rubbishing thing away,” cried Oliver, wrathfully. “All your cock and bull story about that.”
“Yes, sir,” cried Smith, with a peculiar chuckle and a wink at Wriggs; “but that there warn’t the one.”
As he spoke, Smith very carefully and slowly brought his hand round again, holding a bird in the most perfect plumage suspended by a thin ring of brass wire, which had been thrust through the nostrils, and Oliver uttered a cry of joy.
“Ahoy, Drew! Panton! come here, quick!”
“What’s up?” came from the deck, and as there was the hurried sound of feet, the two sailors nodded and winked and gave each his leg a slap.
“What is it?” cried Panton, eagerly, as he ran to where his brother naturalist stood gloating over his treasure.
“A gem! A gem!” cried Oliver.
“Then, that’s in my way, not yours,” said Panton. “My word, what a beauty! That’s quite fresh.”
“To me, but I know what it is. The Golden Paradise bird. Isn’t it exquisite? Look at its colours and the crest.”