“Say, Salloo, you shouldn’t have done that,” called up Jack indignantly. “That’s a shame.”
The rest echoed his indignation at what seemed an act of wanton cruelty. Salloo only looked astonished.
“Him plenty good eat. Roast hornbill plenty fine.”
“You see, he takes a different point of view about these things than we do,” said Captain Sparhawk. “You can’t blame him. Still I wish we could have prevented it.”
They examined the dead hornbill with much interest. It was a gorgeous bird, almost as big as a turkey, with a bill of a size altogether disproportionate to even its large size. This beak was like a gigantic parrot’s bill and the horny structure extended over almost the entire head of the bird. It was not unlike the one the boys had shot the night before and thrown away as not good for food.
“Plentee eggs in there,” said Salloo as he came down, “but they no good eat.”
“Well, I’m glad there were no young ones to be starved through our interference,” said Billy, and the others felt as he did.
“Say, I’m going to have a look at that nest,” said Jack suddenly.
“All right. But look out you don’t fall and break your neck,” warned Raynor. Jack went nimbly up Salloo’s queer ladder and soon reached a height where he could see into the nest, which was built in a cavity of the tree and had afterward been carefully walled up with mud, strengthened by weaving reeds into it. Jack was still examining the nest when a sudden shadow fell over him. He looked up and above him he saw, with somewhat of a shock, a great bird whose plumage flashed brilliantly in the sun and whose huge beak snapped viciously at the boy.
“Look out, look out, him father hornbill,” cried Salloo from the ground.