The Dragonbird appeared.
Blayne's astonished gasp was so loud that Elliot looked around apprehensively. "It's beautiful," the fat man exclaimed. "More lovely than I'd ever dreamed."
"It is," Elliot said grimly. He took the glasses from Blayne's trembling fingers and focused them on the island.
The Dragonbird was walking with dignity across the little square before the altar. It stood almost the height of a man, half-bird, half-reptile, walking on powerful claws tipped with diamond-sharp, gleaming talons. The brilliant sunlight glinted off its metallic feathers, played over its shining plumage, lent brightness to the shimmering row of scales that covered its long, swan-like neck.
"Give me back the glasses," Blayne said. He snatched them and stared. "My God, what a beauty! He'll make a perfect trophy!"
"Trophy?" Elliot recoiled in amazement. "Trophy! I thought you were going to capture it."
"Don't be a fool! How could we take a live bird the size of that one back through the jungle? We'd need a cage of chrome steel. No, I'm going to shoot it. We can take the head and skin back—that'll be enough."
Elliot scowled, and felt sick. The Dragonbird—a trophy! The concept disgusted him. He looked away, toward the island.
The Dragonbird had begun to feed on the small animal. It was ripping into it viciously with its talons and powerful beak.
"It'll be easy," Blayne went on. "I'll put a bullet through the bird so as not to ruin it, and then we'll use ray guns on the natives to get rid of them."