"They're like no bird I ever saw out of a zoo," declared Elsie Mortimer. "Maybe they are from the Zoo? Maybe they escaped from the Bronx?"
"The Bronx is too near," objected Lowell. "These birds have come a great distance. They move as though they had been flying for many days."
As though the absurdity of his own thought amused him, Mortimer laughed softly.
"I'll tell you what they do look like," he said. "They look like that bird you see on the Nile, the sacred Ibis, they—"
Something between a gasp and a cry startled him into silence. He found his host staring wildly, his lips parted, his eyes open wide.
"Where?" demanded Ainsley. "Where did you say?" His voice was so hoarse, so strange, that they all turned and looked.
"On the Nile," repeated Mortimer. "All over Egypt. Why?"
Ainsley made no answer. Unclasping his hold, he suddenly slid down the face of the rock, and with a bump lit on his hands and knees. With one bound he had cleared a flower-bed. In two more he had mounted the steps to the terrace, and in another instant had disappeared into the house.
"What happened to him?" demanded Elsie Mortimer.
"He's gone to get a gun!" exclaimed Mortimer. "But he mustn't! How can he think of shooting them?" he cried indignantly. "I'll put a stop to that!"