“It is! it is!” cried Karl, stooping suddenly down, and grasping the shank of one of the birds.

“What?” inquired Caspar.

“Look, brother! See what is there, round the stork’s leg! Do you not remember having seen that bit of jewellery before?”

“A brass ring! Oh yes!” replied Caspar; “now I do remember. In the Botanic Gardens there was an adjutant with a ring round its ankle; a brass ring, too—just like this one. How very odd!”

“Like!” echoed Karl. “Not only like, but the very same! Stoop down, and examine it more closely. You see those letters?”

“R.B.G., Calcutta,” slowly pronounced Caspar, as he read the inscription graven upon the ring. “‘R.B.G.’ What do these initials stand for, I wonder?”

“It is not difficult to tell that,” knowingly answered Karl. “Royal Botanical Garden! What else could it be?”

“Nothing else. For certain, these two birds must be the same we used to see there, and with which we so often amused ourselves!”

“The same,” asserted Karl. “No doubt of it.”

“And Fritz must have recognised them too—when he made that unprovoked attack upon them! You remember how he used to quarrel with them?”

“I do. He must not be permitted to assail them any more. I have a use for them.”

“A use?”

“Ah, a most important one; so important that these birds, ugly and unamiable as they are, must be cared for, as if they were the prettiest and most prized of pets. We must provide them with food and water; we must tend them by day, and watch over them by night—as though they were some sacred fire, which it was our duty to keep constantly burning.”

“All that, indeed!”

“Verily, brother! The possession of these storks is not only important—it is essential to our safety. If they should die in our hands, or escape out of them—even if one of them should die or get away—we are lost. Our last hope lies in them. I am sure it is our last.”

“But what hope have you found in them?” interrogated Caspar—puzzled to make out the meaning of his brother’s words, and not without wonder at their apparent wildness.

“Hope? Every hope. Ay, something more than hope: for in this singular incident I cannot fail to recognise the finger of a merciful God. Surely He hath at length taken compassion upon us! Surely it is He who has sent these birds! They are messengers from Heaven!”

Caspar remained silent, gazing earnestly in the eyes of his brother, that were now sparkling with mingled gratitude and joy. But although Caspar could perceive this expression, he was utterly unable to interpret it.

Ossaroo was alike puzzled by the strange looks and speeches of the Sahib Karl; but the Hindoo gave less heed to them—his attention being almost wholly taken up by the adjutants, which he fondle............