“Well, be on your guard all of you. I suppose they are pretty plentiful, and some are very dangerous, but I believe they will all get out of our way if they can. What birds are those?”
A couple of dusky-green birds, with their feathers barred across like those of a hawk or cuckoo, with lines of a darker green, started up from some grass and flew off, their long, pointed tails and rounded heads and beaks showing plainly what they were.
“Ground parrots,” said the captain. “It’s curious, in a country to which one kind of bird is peculiar, what a variety one sees.”
“Is one kind of bird peculiar to this country, then?” asked Norman.
“Well, it is not fair to say peculiar, but one kind is abundant—the parrot—and there are several kinds here.”
“Are cockatoos?” said Rifle, eagerly.
“A cockatoo, you might say, is a parrot. The only difference seems to be that it has a crest.—But how much farther do you make it to the tree, German?”
“Miles,” said that worthy, rather gruffly. “Keeps getting farther off ’stead o’ nigher, sir.”
“The air is so wonderfully clear that distance is deceiving. Never mind, keep on slowly, so as not to distress the cattle and the horses with their heavier loads.”
“Needn’t ha’ said that, sir; this horse’ll go slow enough,” grumbled German. “I get thinking sometimes as he ain’t moving at all.”