and suspended from a skewer, were roasted before a red fire of dead wood. While those interesting birds were cooking, Ned prepared the fruit of the artocarpus. Then the wood-pigeons were devoured to the bones, and declared excellent. The nutmeg, with which they are in the habit of stuffing their crops, flavors their flesh and renders it delicious eating.
"Now, Ned, what do you miss now?"
"Some four-footed game, M. Aronnax. All these pigeons are only side-dishes and trifles; and until I have killed an animal with cutlets, I shall not be content."
"Nor I, Ned, if I do not catch a bird of paradise."
"Let us continue hunting," replied Conseil. "Let us go toward the sea. We have arrived at the first declivities of the mountains, and I think we had better regain the region of forests."
That was sensible advice, and was followed out. After walking for one hour, we had attained a forest of sago-trees. Some inoffensive serpents glided away from us. The birds of paradise fled at our approach, and truly I despaired of getting near one, when Conseil, who was walking in front, suddenly bent down, uttered a triumphant cry, and came back to me bringing a magnificent specimen.
"Ah! bravo, Conseil!"
"Master is very good."
"No, my boy; you have made an excellent stroke. Take one of these living birds, and carry it in your hand."
"If master will examine it, he will see that I have not deserved great merit."
"Why, Conseil?"
"Because this bird is as drunk as a quail."
"Drunk!"
"Yes, sir; drunk with the nutmegs that it devoured under the nutmeg-tree under which I found it. See, friend Ned, see the monstrous effects of intemperance!"
"By Jove!" exclaimed the Canadian, "because I have not drunk gin for two months, you must needs reproach me!"
However, I examined the curious bird. Conseil was right. The bird, drunk with the juice, was quite powerless. "It could not fly; it could hardly walk.
This bird belonged to the most beautiful of the eight
