“Hawk, hawk, hawk; kwok, kwok, kwok;” and it seemed so stupid of him, but there it was again; “Hawk, hawk, hawk; kwok, kwok, kwok.”
“Come, Nat,” cried my uncle; “unbutton those eyelids, boy, and get up. Don’t you hear the birds calling?”
“I thought it was Ebo, uncle,” I said. “Oh! I am so sleepy.”
“Never mind the sleepiness, Nat. Come along and let’s see if we cannot get some good specimens.”
Just then I saw Ebo’s face in the opening, and cutting a yawn right in half I followed my uncle out into the darkness, for though the birds of paradise were calling, there was no sign of day.
But if we wished for success I felt that we must get beneath the trees unseen, and, examining my gun, I followed my uncle, who in turn kept close behind Ebo.
The black went forward very cautiously, and looking very strange and misty in the darkness; but he evidently knew what he was about, going along amongst the great tree trunks without a sound, while we followed as lightly as we could.
On all sides we could hear the hoarse cries of the birds, which we felt must be in good numbers, and I felt less sleepiness now in the fresh morning air, and a curious feeling of excitement came over me as I thought of the lovely amber plumes of these birds, and wondered whether I should be fortunate enough to bring one down.
All at once Ebo stopped beneath an enormous tree, and as we crept up close to its mighty trunk we gazed up into the darkness and could here and there catch a glimpse of a star; in fact, so black was it, that but for the cries of the various birds we heard, it might have been taken for the middle of the night.
There was nothing to see but an almost opaque blackness, though now and then I fancied I could make out a great branch crossing above my head. It seemed nonsense to have come, but the loud cry of one of the birds we sought, sounded loudly just then and silenced my doubts. I raised my gun ready for a shot, but could see nothing.