The Clio messenger. (Clio, Mich.) 1907-current, 1915-01-29
PARROT
& co. ~
Copyright by the Bobbs-Merriu Company

Under his arm he carried small
iron cage, patterned something like
a rat trap. 1t contained a Rajputana
parrakeet, not much larger than a
robin, but possessor Of a soul as fierce
as that of Palladin, minus, however,
the smoothing influence of chivalry.
He had been born under the caves Of
the scarlet palace in Jaipur ESQ his
history RAM but the proximity of In
dian princes had left him untouched;
he had neither chivalry. politeness,
nor diplomacy. He was, in fact, thor
oughly and consistently bad. Round
and round he went, over and over.
top side, down side, restlessly. For
at this moment he was hearing those
familiar evening sounds which no hu-
man ear can discern-the mutterings
Of the day birds about to seek cover
for the night. In the field at the right
of the road stood a lonely tree. 1t
was covered with brilliant scarlet
leaves and blossoms, and justly the
natives call 1t the Flame of the
Jungle. A flock of small birds were
gyrating above it.
"Jah. jah. jah! Jah-jah-ja-a-a-h!"
cried the parrot, initiating the Bur-
mese bell gong that calls to prayer.
Instantly he followed the call with q
shrek so piercing as to sting the ear
Of the man who was carrying him.
"You little son of gun!" he
laughed; where do you pack away all
that noise?"
There was a strange bond between
the big yellow man and this little
green bird. The bird did not suspect
it, but the man knew. The pluck, the
pugnacity and the individuality OF the
feathered comrade had been an object
lesson to the man, at time when he
the fight.
"Jah, jah, jah! Jah-jah-ja-a-a-h!"
The bird began it's interminable SON.
ersaults, pausing only to reach for the
tantalizing finger Of the man, who
laughed again as he withdrew the
digit in time.
For six years he had carried the
bird with him, through India and Bur
ma and Malacca, and not yet had he
won a sign of surrender. There were
many scars on his forefngers. 1t was
amazing. With one pressure Of his
hand he could have crushed out the
life of the bird, but over its brave, un-
conquerable spirit he had no power.
And that Is why he loved it,
Far away in the past they had met
He remembered the day distinctly
and bitterly. He had been on the
brink of self-destruction. Fever and
poverty and terrible loneliness had
battered and beaten him fiat into the
dust, from which this time he had no
wish to rise. He had walked out to
the railway station at Jaipur to wit
ness the arrival of the tourist train
from Ahmadabad. The natives surged
about the train, with brassware, an
tique articles of warfare, tiger hunt
ing knives accompanied by perennial
fairy tales), skins and silks. There
we're beggars, holy men, guides and
fakirs.
Of first-class carriage was solemn,
brown man, in turban and clout, exhib-
iting performing parrots. 1t was Ra-
jah's turn. He fired a cannon, turned
somersaults through little steel
hoop, opened tiny chest, took out a
four-anna piece. carried 1t to his mas
ter, and in exchange received some
seed. Thereupon he waddled resent
fully back to the iron cage, opened
the door, closed 1t behind him, and
began to mutter belligerently. War
rington haggled for two straight hours.
When he returned to his sordid, evil
smelling lodgings that night he pos
sessed the parrot and four rupees, and
sat up the greater part of the night
trying to make the bird perform his
tricks. The idea of suicide no longer
bothered him; trifling though 1t was,
on the morrow came the Eurasian,
who trustfully loaned Warrington ev-
cry coin that he could scrape together.
Often, in the dreary heart-achy days
that followed, when weeks passed ere
he saw the face of white man, when
he had to combat opium and bhang
and laziness in the natives under him,
the bird and his funny tricks had
saved him from whisky, or worse In
camp he gave Rajah much freedom,
its wings being clipped; and nothing
pleased the little rebel so much as
to claw his way up to his masters
shoulder. sit there and watch the
progress of the razor, with intermit-
tent "jawing" at his own reflection in
the cracked hand mirror.
Up and down the Irrawaddy, at the
resthouses, on the boats, to those of
a jocular turn of mind the three were
known as Parrot &c Co." Warning
toms amiability often misled the yari.
Gus scoundrels with whom he was at
times forced to associate. A man
who smiled most of the time and
talked Hindustani to a parrot was not
to be accorded much courtesy; until
one day Warrington had settled all
distinctions, finally and primordially,
with the square OF his fists. After