Ghond made the following explanation. "It is said that mother Nature has given all birds the colours that hide them from their enemies. But do you not see that those pheasants are so full of splendour that they can be sighted and killed even by a blind man?" Radja exclaimed: "Can they?" Ghond answered: "O, wary beyond thy years, no! The real reason is that they live on trees and do not come down before the earth is very hot. In this hot India of ours the air two inches above the ground is so burning that it quivers with a thousand colours; and the plumage of the pheasant is similar. When we look at them we do not see birds, but the many-coloured air which camouflages them completely. We almost walked on them a few moments ago, thinking them but a part of the road at our feet." "That I comprehend," resumed Radja reverently. "But why did the female look mud-coloured and why did they not fly away with the male?" Ghond answered without hesitation. "When the enemy approaches and takes them by surprise, the male flies up to face the enemy's bullets though without thought of chivalry. The females' wings are not so good. Besides she, being of the colour of the earth, opens her wings to shelter her babies under them, then lies flat on the ground, completely melting away her identity into that colour scheme. After the enemy goes away in quest of the corpses of their already slaughtered husbands, the females run away with their babies into the nearest thicket.... And if it is not too late in the year, and if their grown-up babies are not with them, the mother birds singly flop to the ground and lie there, making the gesture of protecting their young. Self-sacrifice becomes a habit with them, and habitually they put forth their wings whether they have any young ones with them or not. That is what they were doing when we came upon them, then suddenly they realized that they were without anyone to protect, and as we still kept on coming down upon them they took to flight, poor fliers though they are." With the approach of dusk we took shelter in the house of a Sikkimese nobleman whose son was a friend of ours. There we found further traces of Gay-Neck, who had been to their house many times before, and so when he reached the familiar place on his latest visit he had eaten millet seeds, drunk water and taken his bath. Also, he had preened his wings and left two small azure feathers which my friend had preserved for the sake of their colouring. When I saw them my heart leapt in joy, and that night I slept in utter peace and contentment. There was another reason for sleeping well, for Ghond had told us to rest deeply, as after the following day's march, we were to spend the night in the jungle. The next night when we sat on that tree top in the deep jungle, often did I think of the home of my Sikkimese friend and its comforts.