“What is that?” asked little Cis, who had not spoken, but, sitting close to Hal, had been watching the wonderful scene.
“I do not know,” said Hal, “but it looks like a big mountain parrot that I’ve seen pictures of in our new book on New Zealand birds.”
“Is that what it is, Mr. Santa Claus?”
“Yes, Hal, and it is a cruel bird,[22] for it will fasten its claws into the back of any sheep that has wandered away from its companions or is floundering in the snow, and then, digging its sharp beak through the flesh, it feeds upon the fat part it likes best. The poor sheep, driven frantic by the pain, rushes on and on, till it sinks down exhausted to die; and then the Kea, having got the dainty bit it wanted, leaves its prey, and goes off to seek a fresh victim.”
“How cruel!” said little Cis, her eyes filling with tears.
“But come, children,” said Santa Claus, “I must take you near the snow,” and he led them to where the snow lay white and pure.
The children rushed to fill their hands with it, and shouted for joy.
“How cold it is!” cried Hal.
“How beautifully white and soft!” said little Cis.
And the children began to pelt each other, their merry laughter ringing on the clear air.