“Many scientists believe that there still may be a few giant Moas in some of the interior regions of New Zealand, but the most diligent search has failed to find any.” “Moas were like ostriches, only bigger, weren’t they, Uncle George?” “A very great deal bigger, and much heavier in build. Yet, less than ten years ago, a missionary reported that he had knowledge of a feast at which the Maoris, or New Zealand natives, had found, killed, and eaten a giant Moa. There’s no doubt that the Maoris used to eat the Moa, as recently as a century or two ago. Their remains have been discovered in the charred remains of camp fires. Their bones are found in thousands, lying on the surface of the ground, hardly buried at all, showing how recently they became extinct. “In one morass, abounding in warm springs, the bones of the Moa were found in enormous numbers, layer upon layer. They are there in thousands, and the only reason for that vast horde of skeletons is, that in some terribly cold winter, or, it may be, in one of the later cycles of the Ice Age, the giant birds made their way to the warm flowing springs in the hope that their feet, at least, might be safe from the biting frost, and, undoubtedly, the warm springs made the air less bitterly cold. But there was no food there, and they perished miserably from cold and want. That may have been a long time ago. Yet, Perry, only a few years ago, a Moa egg was found in a Maori grave, tightly clasped in the bony fingers of a skeleton. None the less, that doesn’t prove that it was a new-laid egg!” “It certainly wasn’t when it was found, if it was in a grave,” ejaculated Perry. “Exactly. Finding an egg is no proof of its age. For example, a perfect egg of the Aepyornis—the biggest egg in the world, six times as large as an ostrich egg—was found after a hurricane, bobbing serenely up and down on the waves near St. Augustine’s Bay.” “How in the world do you suppose it got there?” “Probably it had been buried in a swamp,” the professor replied, “and, it may be, when the hurricane uprooted a tree, the outbursting roots tore up some of the soil and exposed an egg which had been buried in the swamp muck. The egg floated to the surface and so made its way down to the sea.” “You said the Aepyornis egg was six times as big as the ostrich’s egg, but the bird wasn’t six times as big, was it?” “Hardly,” said the scientist, smiling; “that would be like the Roc, that Sindbad the Sailor spoke about. But I think that the huge eggs of the Aepyornis were the things that started the story about the Roc. You know, it was supposed to have its home in Madagascar. There are several of those eggs known, and one very fine one is in America. As a matter of fact, the bird was not very much bigger than an ostrich. When you come to feathered giants, Perry, Patagonia must take the lead, and when I was down there this last winter, I found some splendid specimens.” [Illustration: