“And are they friendly to you?”
“Oh yes; in their way, sir.”
“But look here: are you really sure that you can see some of those parrots now?”
“Certain, sir,” said Leather, smiling. “Try and follow my finger. There: now you can see them.”
Nic had a long look, and then shook his head in despair.
“I’m sorry you cannot see them, sir. Would you like me to shoot that bird for you?”
“Yes,” cried Nic, holding out his gun. “No!” he said, drawing it sharply back.
“Because you think, sir, it is a ruse on my part to get possession of your gun and then go off as a bushranger,” said Leather bitterly.
Nic coloured deeply as a girl, but he tossed up his head.
“Well,” he said sharply, “that’s true; I could not help thinking it.”