POC RL DAY, 67 
before the time of our going home. He had found the 
entire marsh well stocked with birds. 
We had arranged with Bombelles that we would pick him 
up, and that he was to wait for us at the fishing-colony, our 
starting point of yesterday ; so as soon as my men were safe 
on board I gave the order to start. 
We made rather slow progress against the swift current of 
this arm of the river, but after an hour’s run, during which 
we lunched and took the preliminary measurements of the 
slain birds, we reached the rendezvous with Bombelles, and 
somewhere between five and six in the afternoon got to the 
place where we were to pass the night. 
As we approached the colony, Bombelles stepped out of a 
fisherman’s hut, perfectly drenched and empty-handed. He 
had found the second nest of the previous day quite deserted, 
but at the first succeeded in getting a shot, hitting the 
eagle rather hard. He had, however, by an unlucky acci- 
dent, loaded with shot so small that it had not strength 
enough to kill the powerful bird outright. 
From this nest he had brought with him the young eagles, 
which were already fairly large and showed the first traces 
of feathers. 
There were still some hours of daylight before us; the 
weather had cleared, the rain had been followed by a beautiful 
evening, the ruddy gold rays of the setting sun were piercing 
through the torn clouds, and a wondrous glow lit up the 
whole sky. 
Brehm, Homeyer, and I therefore decided not to lose the 
time, but to make a little excursion into the flooded wilder- 
ness, where I had yesterday killed the two eagles, though 
merely for the sake of observing the ways and habits of the 
Moorhens and the other waterfowl. So we got into a pair- 
oared boat, in which there was room for all three of us, and 
F2 
