And in about an hour the little bird came back with six different kinds of eagles: a Black Eagle, a Bald Eagle, a Fish Eagle, a Golden Eagle, an Eagle-Vulture, and a White-tailed Sea Eagle. Twice as high as the boy they were, each one of them. And they stood on the rail of the ship, like round-shouldered soldiers all in a row, stern and still and stiff; while their great, gleaming, black eyes shot darting glances here and there and everywhere. Gub-Gub was scared of them and got behind a barrel. He said he felt as though those terrible eyes were looking right inside of him to see what he had stolen for lunch. And the Doctor said to the eagles, “A man has been lost—a fisherman with red hair and an anchor marked on his arm. Would you be so kind as to see if you can find him for us? This boy is the man’s nephew.” Eagles do not talk very much. And all they answered in their husky voices was, “You may be sure that we will do our best—for John Dolittle.” Then they flew off—and Gub-Gub came out from behind his barrel to see them go. Up and up and up they went—higher and higher and higher still. Then, when the Doctor could only just see them, they parted company and started going off all different ways—North, East, South and West, looking like tiny grains of black sand creeping across the wide, blue sky. “My gracious!” said Gub-Gub in a hushed voice. “What a height! I wonder they don’t scorch their feathers—so near the sun!” They were gone a long time. And when they came back it was almost night. And the eagles said to the Doctor, “We have searched all the seas and all the countries and all the islands and all the cities and all the villages in this half of the world. But we have failed. In the main street of Gibraltar we saw three red hairs lying on a wheelbarrow before a baker’s door. But they were not the hairs of a man—they were the hairs out of a fur-coat. Nowhere, on land or water, could we see any sign of this boy’s uncle. And if _we_ could not see him, then he is not to be seen.... For John Dolittle—we have done our best.” Then the six great birds flapped their big wings and flew back to their homes in the mountains and the rocks. “Well,” said Dab-Dab, after they had gone, “what are we going to do now? The boy’s uncle _must_ be found—there’s no two ways about that. The lad isn’t old enough to be knocking around the world by himself. Boys aren’t like ducklings—they have to be taken care of till they’re quite old.... I wish Chee-Chee were here. He would soon find the man. Good old Chee-Chee! I wonder how he’s getting on!” “If we only had Polynesia with us,” said the white mouse. “_She_ would soon think of some way. Do you remember how she got us all out of prison—the second time? My, but she was a clever one!”