“Birds ought to be plentiful here.”
“They swarm,” said the convict. “You can get the beautiful lyre bird, with its wonderful curved tail. I can show you the bower birds’ nests, with their decorations. Then there is that beautiful purply black kind of crow—the rifle bird they call it. As to the parrots and cockatoos, they are in flocks.”
“The kangaroos are plentiful enough, too, seemingly.”
“Herds of them, from the little wallaby rats right up to the red old men.”
“And snakes?”
“Too many of them; I’m obliged to be careful. We can have some grand hunts, Nic, and I can feast you afterwards on roast cockatoo and mutton.”
“And I shall bring you—I say, I’d forgotten: did you bring the flour down here?”
“No,” said the convict, smiling; “you forgot to hide it where you said.”
“It was too dark that night to find the place, but I put it there next day. Didn’t you get it?”
“No; some one must have seen you hide it, and taken it away. One of the blacks, I suppose.”