138 MUTTON BIRDS 



to bound threateningly at my hand. Mine, I 

 suppose, was some such involuntary fault as in 

 a moment, on a new found land, breaks the bond 

 of savage and mariner. The white man trans- 

 gresses some unknown code, and in an instant 

 the feast becomes a fray. 



Our Parrakeets, alas, however, were not to 

 remain long with us. Within a fortnight of their 

 arrival "Hans" and "Leask" on one occasion 

 stopped out all night. "Leask" was back 

 at seven and "Hans" returned later. There 

 had been heavy cold rain and both birds 

 were very hungry. A week later "Hans" 

 again remained away. He did not return 

 the following day or the next. "Baby" and 

 "Leask" on the latter were also out. Next 

 morning, however, all three came to be fed, and 

 this was our last glimpse of the two males. 



"Leask" returned early the following 

 morning, and it was curious during that whole 

 day and the succeeding days, to watch her dis- 

 trait air, and note how constantly she was 

 listening for her friends. For a month longer 

 she remained, and as she was only allowed to 

 fly in fine weather, and brought home, free of 

 course, earlier in the afternoon, she and I became 

 great allies. 



On the sad days, when forced to remain 

 indoors, most of her time was spent gazing out 

 of the window, perhaps hoping like a child that 

 the rain would only cease, and that she could 

 get out to play. Her habit was, each evening, 

 after being walked home on shoulder or wrist, 

 to visit at once the curtain pole where her two 

 lost comrades had slept with her, then sidling 

 along its length once or twice, she would preen 

 her feathers, and at last creep down the curtains 



