"I flew just ahead of them, and cried 'Tee-he-he! Here come the Murderers!' so that every bird in all the _jhils_ about could hear me.

And when Bakula, and Kowar the Ibis, and all the others had flown to safety, I shouted, 'Did-you-do-it, did-you-do-it!' Then the Men used language much like the disgraceful talk we have had from c.o.c.ky and Myna to-night."

"You carried a heavy responsibility," remarked Sa'-zada.

"All lies," sneered Kauwa. "Fat Bones! why, he can't even sit on the limb of a tree."

"That is because of my feet," sighed Lapwing. "I have no toes behind."

"Where do you sleep?" asked Magh.

"On the ground," answered Lapwing.

"That's so," declared Sa'-zada, "for the Natives of the East say that t.i.tiri sleeps on his back, and holds up the sky with his feet."

"But why should the Men kill Birds for a few feathers?" croaked Vulture. "I don't believe it. n.o.body asked me for one of mine. In fact the great trouble of all eating is the feathers or skin."

"Whe-eh-eh!" exclaimed Ostrich, disgustedly. "Pheu! your feathers!

Even your head looks like a boiled Lobster. They do not kill me--the Men--but I know they are crazy for feathers, for they pull mine all out. Some day I'll give one of them a kick that will cure him of his feather fancy. I did rake one from beak to feet once with my strong toe nail. When I bring a foot up over my head and down like this----"

As Ostrich swung his leg every one skurried out of the way, for they knew it was like a sword descending.

"Yes," cried Magh, "if you only had a brain the size of that toe-nail----"

"Stop it!" cried Sa'-zada, for this was an unpleasant truth; Ostrich, though such a huge fellow himself, has a brain about the size of a Humming Bird's.

"Talking of Wives," said Ostrich, with the most extraordinary irrelevance, "mine died when I was twenty-seven years old; and, of course, as it is the way with us Birds, I never took up with another, though I've seen the most beautifully feathered ones of our Kind--quite enough to make one's mouth water.

"She had queer ways, to be sure--my wife. As you all know, our way of hatching eggs is turn about, the Mother Birds sitting all day, while we Lords of the Nest sit at night. But my wife would take notions sometimes and not sit at all. In that case I always sat night and day until the job was finished. By-a-sore-breast-bone! but making a nest in the hard-graveled desert is a job to be avoided."

"Sore knuckles!" exclaimed Magh, "where are we at? We were talking of feathers."

"So we were, so we were," decided Mooswa. "And what I want to know is, do the Men eat the feathers they hunt for?"

"Oh, Jungle Dwellers!" exclaimed Magh; "if you were to sit in my cage for half a day you would see what they do with them. The Women come there with their heads covered with all kinds of feathers, red, and green, and blue--Silly! how would I look with my head stuck full of funny old feathers?"

"Like the Devil!" exclaimed Sa'-zada.

"Like a Woman," retorted Magh. "And their hair is so pretty, too. I've seen red hair just like mine, and then to cover it up with a crest of feathers like c.o.c.katoo wears; I'd be ashamed of the thing."

"It's a sin to murder the Birds," whimpered Mooswa; "that's the worst part of it."

"Tonk, tonk, tonk!" came a noise just like a small Boy striking an iron telegraph post with a stick. It was the small Coppersmith Bird clearing his throat. Very funny the green pudgy little chap looked with his big black mustaches.

"The Men are great thieves," he a.s.serted. "When I was a chick my Mother taught me to stick my tail under my wings for fear they would steal the feathers as I slept."

"Steal tail feathers!" screamed Eagle; "I should say they would. Out in the West, where was my home, when a Man becomes a great Chief he sticks three of my tail feathers in his hair; and when the Head Chief of a great Indian tribe rises up to make a big talk, what does he hold in his hand? The things that are bright like water-drops----"

"Diamond rings," exclaimed Sa'-zada, interrupting.

"No; he holds one of my wings to show that he is great."

"Yes, you are the King Bird, Eagle," concurred Sa'-zada, "the emblem of our country."

"I can break a lamb's back with my talons," a.s.sented Eagle, ignoring the sublime disdainfully, "but I wouldn't trust my nest within reach of any Man--they're a lot of thieves."

"Nice feathers are a great trouble," a.s.serted Sparrow; "I'm glad I haven't any."

"What difference does it make?" cried Quail; "the Men kill me, and I'm sure I'm not gaudy."

"You're good eating, though," chuckled Gidar the Jackal. "After a day's shoot of the Men-kind, the scent from their cook-house is fair maddening. Oh-h-h, ki-yi! I've had many a Quail bone in my time."

"Even Lapwing can't save _us_ from the Hunters," lamented Quail; "they play us such vile tricks. I've seen a rice field with a dozen bamboos stuck in it, and on top of each bamboo a cage with a tame c.o.c.k Quail; and in the center, hidden away, sat a man with a little drum which he tapped with his fingers. And the drum would whistle 'peep, peep, peep,'

and the Birds in the cages would go 'peep, peep, peep,' and we c.o.c.k Birds of the Jungle, thinking it a challenge to battle, would answer back, 'peep, peep, peep,' and go seeking out these strange Birds who were calling for fight. Of course, our Wives would go with us to see the battle, and in the end all would be snared or shot by the deceitful Men."

"That's almost worse than being taken for one's feathers," said Egret.

"I'm glad they don't eat me."

"No Mussulman would eat you, Buff Egret," said Gidar the Jackal. "It's because of your habit of picking ticks off the Pigs."

"Some Birds do have vile habits," declared Crow. "Paddy Bird has a Brother in Burma who gets drunk on the Men's toddy."

"I doubt if that be true," said Sa'-zada, "though he is really called 'Bacchus' in the science books."

Said Myna, "Of all Birds, I think the Jungle Fowl are the worst. The c.o.c.ks do nothing but fight, fight, all the time--fight, and then get up in a tree and crow about it, as though it were to their credit."

Said Kauwa the Crow, "When one of our family becomes quarrelsome, or a great nuisance, we hold a meeting--I have seen even a thousand Crows at such meetings--hear all there is to say about him, and then if it appears that he is utterly bad we beat him to death."

"Tub-full-of-bread!" exclaimed Hathi, sleepily, "it's my opinion that all Birds should be on their roosts--it's very late."

"And roost high, too," said Magh, "for Coyote and Gidar have been licking their chops for the last hour. I've watched them. And lock Python up, O Sa'-zada, for high roosts won't save them from him."

"All to bed, all to bed!" cried the Keeper. "To-morrow night we'll have some more tales."

The last cry heard on the sleepy night air after all were safely in their cages was c.o.c.katoo's "Avast there, you lubber!" as Myna, sticking his saucy yellow beak through the bars of his cage, called across to him, "Want a gla.s.s of grog, Polly?"

Eighth Night

The Stories of Buffalo and Bison

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[Ill.u.s.tration]