“Yes, that’s it,” cried the doctor. “You know the bird.”
“Yes, know the big spot bird; all eyes,” said the boy. “Sees all over himself; like a peacock. Hunter no shoot him, see too much far.”
“But I must shoot one,” said the doctor.
“Yes, you shoot one,” said the boy. “I take you to-night.” The doctor rubbed his hands and was delighted; and after the dinner, when the officers and chiefs were sitting smoking and sipping their coffee by the light of the stars, he rose and took his gun, for the Malay boy was waiting.
“Off again, doctor?” cried the major.
“Yes,” said the little man, importantly. “I am going, sir, to add to my collection a specimen of the celebrated Argus pheasant—Phasianus Giganteus.”
“No, no, doctor; no Latin names after dinner,” cried several voices.
“As you please, gentlemen,” he said.
“The sultan says, shall he send a score of his men to protect you?” cried Captain Horton.
“For goodness’ sake no!” cried the doctor in dismay. “My dear sir, this bird is only to be shot by approaching it most cautiously at night, or by laying patiently near its haunts.”