"Yes, very pretty," said Chumbley; "but I often think, doctor, that I'd give something to see half a dozen sooty London sparrows in a genuine old English fog." "Nonsense, man. There, too--look!" he cried, pointing, as like a streak of white light a great bird flew across the river. "That's a white eagle. I never have such chances as this when I'm out collecting." "S'pose not," said Chumbley, drily. "It's always the case when a fellow has no gun. Precious good job for the birds." "Oh! this is maddening!" cried the doctor. "Look--look at that, Chumbley," and he pointed to the dead branch of a tree, upon which a bird sat motionless, with the sun's rays seeming to flash from its feathers. "Yes, that is rather a pretty chap," said Chumbley. "Plays lawn tennis evidently. Look at his tail." "Yes, that is one of the lovely racket-tailed kingfishers, Chumbley. Ah! I wish, my dear boy, you had a little more taste for natural history. That is a very, very rare specimen, and I'd give almost anything to possess it." "Aren't those long feathers in his way when he dives after fish?" said Chumbley. "There it is, you see," cried the doctor. "You unobservant men display your ignorance the moment you open your lips. These Malay kingfishers do not dive after fish, but chase the beetles and butterflies." "Poor beetles! and poor butterflies!" said Chumbley, with his eyes half closed. "I say, doctor, this is very delightful and dreamy. I begin to wish I was a rajah somewhere up the river here, with plenty of slaves and a boat, and no harassing drills, and tight uniform, and no one to bully me--not even a wife. I say, old fellow, if I am missing some day, don't let them look for me, because I shall have taken to the jungle. I'm sick of civilisation and all its shams." "Hallo! you two," cried a voice. "Come, I say, this isn't fair. Here they are, Hilton." It was the Resident who spoke, and Captain Hilton also appeared the next moment, the four gentlemen so completely filling up the space that the steersman hardly had room to work his oar. "It's all right," said Chumbley, coolly. "The doctor was giving me a lesson in natural history." "With the help of a cigar," said Hilton. "Shall we join them, Harley?" "Yes--no. We had better get back. The Rajah might think himself slighted if we stayed away." "Yes, you're right," exclaimed Chumbley; and getting up slowly, they all made their way back to the covered-in portion of the boat, where the beauties of the river were being discussed, and where Hilton found a seat beside Helen Perowne. "How nice little Stuart looks in her white dress!" thought Chumbley to himself. "A fellow might do worse than marry her. Humph! Is Mr Rajah Murad going to try it on there, as he has been disappointed in Helen Perowne? No; it is only civility. 'Pon my word the fellow is quite the natural gentleman, and can't have such ideas in his head as those for which I gave him credit."