Part 12 (2/2)

The sailor looked at him and scratched his ear.

”Mean it, sir?” he said.

”Of course I do. Come along.”

Oliver went on after his two companions, and the sailors followed.

”How about the cannib.a.l.l.s, Tommy?” asked Billy Wriggs with a chuckle.

”Here, don't you spoil your figger-head by making them faces,” said Smith, shortly. ”I was right enough, so own up like a man.”

”You says, says you, that it was cannib.a.l.l.s as had got a pot on over a fire, and that they was cooking one of our mates.”

”Loin! how I do hate a man as 'zaggerates! I only said I hoped it warn't. It's you as put the pot on.”

”I didn't!”

”Yes, you did, old lad, and I dessay I was right arter all, 'cept as it was only one canniball, and he'd got four legs 'stead o' two.”

Billy Wriggs chuckled again, and then smelt his hands, looked disgusted, and scooped up a little moist earth to rub them with.

”Look sharp, they're close up,” said Smith, ”and I want to see about what fire there is, and how it come.”

”I know; it's one o' they red hot stones as come down and it's set fire to something.”

A minute later they were within fifty yards of the rising vapours, when Wriggs roared,--”Look out!” and began to run.

For there was a peculiar rus.h.i.+ng noise close overhead, followed by a duet of hoa.r.s.e cries, and they had a glimpse of a couple of great, heavily-billed birds, pa.s.sing close to them in the direction of their leaders.

Oliver took a quick shot at one and missed, the smoke hiding the second bird, and they pa.s.sed on unharmed.

”Hornbills!” he cried, excitedly. ”Come, we shall be able to collect here.”

”Hear that, mate?” whispered Smith, ”hornbills, and can't they blow 'em too?”

They stepped in among the stones and found the cat-like creature's lair just beneath one of them, and plenty of proofs of how it lived, for close around lay many of the brightly-coloured feathers it had stripped from different birds.

”Evidently preyed upon these,” said Oliver, eagerly, picking up some of the feathers to examine.

”Hear that, Tommy?”

”Yes.”

”Ain't it gammon?”

”No; nat'ral histry's all true, lad.”

”But I never heard o' cats being religious. I've heard o' their being wicked and mischievous enough for anything.”

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