It was a small bird, but brilliant in the extreme of plumage. The head was covered with small, brown, velvety feathers, but back of its neck arose a fan-shaped ruffle of the most brilliant yellow, backed by a second fan of intense metallic orange. The whole of the breast was rich, deep green, in changeable hues of peacock and purple. The tail was formed of two curved plumes of delicate metallic brown, which curved in airy spirals—a feathered gem as rich in coloring as the vividest-hued humming bird, but far larger.
“The only one!” managed the chief, in Malay, as Nicky bowed his thanks.
“I’ll bet it is! But two have been found in all New Guinea. This is the first reported from Aru. Had it long, Chief?”
“Many years. No more. White man welcome!” grinned the old fellow, gratefully.
They bade them all good-by and set out by compass for the neighborhood of camp. How to find it was something of a poser, but after a morning’s march the lay of the hills began to seem familiar once more and Sadok led them in to the very jungle of tall trees where they had first seen the great birds of paradise.
Dwight was in camp, and overjoyed at Nicky’s present of the Papilio ulysses, which was so rare a treasure that he at once set about pouring a plaster-of-Paris mold for it and getting it under glass without delay.
“I wish I had a trade-last for you, old scout,” said Dwight as he mounted the specimen, “but I haven’t. The curator and I have been mineralogizing since you were gone. We found out a lot about the interior of New Guinea—”
“New Guinea!” echoed Nicky, amazedly.
“Yes, New Guinea,” retorted Dwight, and he told Nicky of the source of the channels that divide Aru.
“And didn’t you get a single sea snake, down there?” asked Nicky, regretfully. “The shallow sea’s full of ’em, all highly venomous, you know—”