"Yes, father. I'll have a little more curry, please."
"I wish I could have your classics and mathematics curried, sir, so as to make you want more of them," said Mr. Kenyon, helping his son to more of the savoury dish. "Yes, Mike?"
"Old Sree is here, sir, with two bearers and a big basket."
"Oh!" cried Harry, jumping up; "what has he got now?"
"Sit down and finish your breakfast, Hal," said his father sternly. "Don't be such a young savage, even if you are obliged to live out here in these uncivilized parts."
The lad sat down promptly, but felt annoyed, and anxious to know what the old hunter employed by his father to collect specimens had brought.
"What has he in the big basket, Mike?" asked Mr. Kenyon.
"Don't know, sir; he wouldn't tell me. Said the Sahibs must know first."
"Then he must have got something good, I know," said Harry excitedly.
"I expect it's a coo-ah."
"One o' them big, speckled peacocks with no colour in 'em, Master Harry?" said Mike respectfully. "No, it isn't one o' them; the basket's too small."