"Well, that's a deal nastier than just wettin' the tips o' your fingers, ain't it? Would it hurt me if I did, sir?"

"Most likely be very dangerous," said Oliver, as he busily tucked some cotton wool into the cavities of the eyes, and then into the empty skull.

"What's he doin' that for, Tommy?" whispered Wriggs.

"Stuffin' on it to keep the skin from s'rivellin', mate. Can't yer see?"

"Yes, that's it," said Oliver, as he worked away. Then, laying the wing bones together, so as to keep them a short distance apart, he proceeded to bind a little of the cotton fibre round the leg bones before wiping his fingers, carefully feeling for the bird's claws, and drawing them out from among the soft feathers where they nestled, and restoring the skin to its place so that it fitted well over the wool.

"Look at that, now, Billy. There y'are, regular pair o' natural legs again. Wonderful thing, bird-stuffing! Hope we don't worry you, sir, talkin'."

"Oh no, talk away," said Oliver smiling, as he made up a little egg-shaped ball of cotton wool of the size of the bird's body, which dangled upon a hook at the end of a string. And then he took a pinch of the wool, doubled it, and thrust the doubled part into the skull, leaving enough to form the bird's neck, followed up with the loose egg-shaped pad which he laid upon the tied together wing bones, and then, with a clever bit of manipulation, drew the skin over the pad, gave the bird a bit of a shake, and, as if it had been some conjuring trick, every feather came back into its right place, and to all appearances there lay a dead bird before him on the head of the cask.

"Three cheers and a hextra hooray!" cried Smith. "Ain't that wonderful, Billy? You and me couldn't ha' made a bird like that."

"No," said Oliver, laughing, "and I couldn't have furled the main-topgallant sail like you two could."

"Well, sir, that's true enough," said Smith; "but if you wouldn't mind me astin', 'What's the good o' pysonin' a bird when it's dead?'"

"I don't," said Oliver, as he busily smoothed feathers and fitted the bird's folded wings close to its sides, giving a pinch them in their here and a pinch there before confining places by rolling a strip of paper round, and fastening it with a pin.

"What I do is to poison the skin, so that it may be fatal to any mischievous insect that might wish to eat it, and make the feathers fall out."

"Why o' course, Tommy," growled Wriggs, "anybody could ha' know'd that."

"You didn't, Billy," said Smith shortly.

"Well, I can't say as I did quite, mate, but I do now, and I shan't never forget it. But what's he doin' o' that for? It won't ketch cold now."

"No," said Oliver, laughing, as he fitted a little cone of paper on the bird's head by thrusting it with the beak right down to the end. "That paper cap is to hold the bird's head well down upon its shoulders, so that it may dry in a natural shape. Birds' necks fold so that they always look very short."

"And what bird may that be, sir?" said Wriggs.

"A pitta--or ground thrush."

"A mercy on us!" said Smith. "It's a wonderful place this. Thrushes at home is all browny speckly birds, and this here's blue and green."

"Yes, birds have brilliant plumage here, my lads. Now, then, what have you got for me? Anything good?"

"Well, that's for you to say, sir. Now then, Billy, out with yours first."

"Nay, let's see yours first, matey."

"Come, come, I'm busy. We're going for a fresh excursion to-day. Now then, Wriggs, what is it?"

"It's a little squirmy wormy thing as he ketched, sir, just as it come outer its hole to curl up in the sunshine. Pull it out, Billy. He's got it in his pocket, sir."

Wriggs slowly thrust in his hand and drew out a little thin snake, which moved slightly as he laid it on the table.

"He says it's a wurm, sir," put in Smith, "I says it's a young come-structor."

"What's that?" cried Oliver in a startled way. "Nonsense, it is full grown."

"Couldn't ha' took long growing to that size, sir," said Smith, grinning, as he held the bird he had shot behind him.

"But, my good fellows, don't you know that this is a very dangerous viper?"

"What, that?" said Wriggs contemptuously, "there ain't nothin' on him."

"There isn't much of a wasp," said Oliver, "but his sting is poisonous enough."

"That's true, sir, specially it you gets it near yer eye. But you don't mean to say as that little chap's got a sting in his tail?"

"Absurd! Vipers have poisonous fangs--two."

"What, in their tails, sir?"

"No, man, in the roof of the mouth. I'll show you."

"But do you mean as that chap would ha' bit us and stung us, sir?" said Wriggs anxiously.

"Of course I do, and you've had a very close shave. How did you kill it?"

"Well, sir, he wouldn't let us kill him, but kep' on wrigglin' arter Billy here had trod on his tail, and we didn't want to quite scrunch him, because you're so partickler. He got a bit quiet, though, arter a time, and then Billy nipped him at the back o' the head and put him in his pocket."

"Look here, when you find a snake with a diamond-shaped head like that, you may be pretty certain that it is venomous."

The two sailors scratched their heads in unison while Oliver turned the little viper's head over, opened its mouth, and made it gape widely by placing a little bone stiletto which he used in skinning the smaller birds within, and then with the point of a penknife he raised two tiny fangs which were laid back on the roof of the reptile's mouth, and which, when erect, looked like points of gla.s.s.

"There!" he exclaimed, "those are the poison fangs. They're hollow and connected with a couple of exceedingly small glands or bags of poison, which shoot a couple of tiny drops of venom through the hollow teeth when they are pressed by the animal biting."

"But you don't call that 'ere a hanimal, sir?" said Smith, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

"What is it, then?" said Oliver, laughingly quoting from an old book--"a vegetable?"

"Well, no, sir, but it does look some'at like a sort o' liquorice stick as the boys used to buy to chew when we went to school."

"It looks more like what it is," said Oliver, "a very dangerous viper, and I warn you both to be very careful about meddling with such things again."

"But you see it was such a little 'un, sir," said Wriggs, apologetically.

"None the less dangerous, and you've had a very narrow escape," said Oliver. Then noting the men's disappointed looks, he continued--

"But I'm very grateful to you all the same. It was very thoughtful of you, Wriggs, and I am glad to have it to add to my collection."

"Then you won't chuck it away, sir?" said Wriggs, brightening up.

"Throw it away--a rare specimen of a poisonous snake? Most decidedly not. I shall put it in my tin of spirit, and preserve it carefully."