“Oh!” I cried, “we could not pass one of them. The sun would make those beautiful golden-green wing coverts flash again.”
“In the sunshine, my boy, but they rest in the deep shade. We shall come upon them yet, and find out their habits. Then all will be easy. Anyone searching for birds of paradise in New Guinea might go scores of times without success, and come away and say there are none. Just as it is in Australia: at one time of year flocks of the great white and sulphur cockatoos can be found; at another time you may search the same district for months and not see one.”
“Yes, uncle,” I said wearily, for I was tired after a long walk in the hot sun pestered by flies; “and I suppose there are plenty of birds about here that we have not seen. Why, of course, we haven’t seen Pete’s wonderful specimen yet.”
“No,” said my uncle drily, “and I shall be very much surprised if we ever do.”
“Do you think there is nothing of the kind, then?” I said.
“I don’t like to be positive, but I should say that he made that bird out of his own head.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, uncle,” I replied; “Pete’s very honest and straightforward.”
“Yes, but he lets his brain run riot, Nat. He saw some bird, I do not doubt, but not clothed and ornamented as he says.”
“There are birds with brightly-coloured tails such as he said?”
“Are there?” said my uncle drily. “I think not. If there be I should like a specimen; it would be an exciting display for the learned bird-lovers in London to gaze at. Don’t you see, my boy, he furnished the specimen he saw with the tail plumage of three different varieties of the macaw—the green the blue, and the red. Pete’s eyes played tricks with him that time. I wish he would see the long floating feathers of a quetzal flashing its green and gold and purple in the sunshine.”