Parrot Co. | Page 9

luck to you wherever you go."
"Much obliged."
Alone in his stateroom Warrington took out Rajah and tossed him on
the counterpane of the bed.
"Now, then, old sport!" tapping the parrot on the back with the perch
which he used as a baton. Blinking and muttering, the bird performed
his tricks, and was duly rewarded and returned to his home of iron.
"She'll be wanting to take you home with her, but you're not for sale."
He then opened his window and leaned against the sill, looking up at
the stars. But, unlike the girl, he did not ask any questions.
"Free!" he said softly.

III
THE WEAK LINK
The day began white and chill, for February nights and mornings are
not particularly comfortable on the Irrawaddy. The boat sped down the
river, smoothly and noiselessly. For all that the sun shone, the
shore-lines were still black. The dust had not yet risen. Elsa passed
through the dining-saloon to the stern-deck and paused at the door. The
scene was always a source of interest to her. There were a hundred or
more natives squatting in groups on the deck. They were wrapped in
ragged shawls, cotton rugs of many colors, and woolen blankets, and
their turbans were as bright and colorful as a Holland tulip-bed. Some
of them were smoking long pipes and using their fists as mouthpieces;
others were scrubbing their teeth with short sticks of fibrous wood; and
still others were eating rice and curry out of little copper pots. There
were very few Burmese among them. They were Hindus, from Central
and Southern India, with a scattering of Cingalese. Whenever a Hindu
gets together a few rupees, he travels. He neither cares exactly where
the journey ends, nor that he may never be able to return; so long as
there is a temple at his destination, that suffices him. The past is the
past, to-morrow is to-morrow, but to-day is to-day: he lives and works
and travels, prisoner to this creed.
Elsa never strolled among them. She was dainty. This world and these
people were new and strange to her, and as yet she could not quite
dominate the fear that some one of these brown-skinned beings might
be coming down with the plague. So she stood framed in the doorway,
a picture rare indeed to the dark eyes that sped their frank glances in
her direction.
"No, Sahib, no; it is three hundred."
"James, I tell you it's rupees three hundred and twelve, annas eight."
Upon a bench, backed against the partition, almost within touch of her

hand, sat the man Warrington and his servant, arguing over their
accounts. The former's battered helmet was tilted at a comfortable
angle and an ancient cutty hung pendent from his teeth, an idle wisp of
smoke hovering over the blackened bowl.
Elsa quietly returned to her chair in the bow and tried to become
interested in a novel. By and by the book slipped from her fingers to
her lap, and her eyes closed. But not for long. She heard the rasp of a
camp-stool being drawn toward her.
"You weren't dozing, were you?" asked the purser apologetically.
"Not in the least. I have only just got up."
"Shouldn't have disturbed you; but your orders were that whenever I
had an interesting story about the life over here, I was to tell it to you
instantly. And this one is just rippin'!"
"Begin," said Elsa. She sat up and threw back her cloak, for it was now
growing warm. "It's about Parrot & Co., I'm sure."
"You've hit it off the first thing," admiringly.
"Well, go on."
"It's better than any story you'll read in a month of Sundays. Our man
has just turned the trick, as you Americans say, for twenty thousand
pounds."
"Why, that is a fortune!"
"For some of us, yes. You see, whatever he was in the past, it was
something worth while, I fancy. Engineering, possibly. Knew his
geology and all that. Been wondering for months what kept him
hanging around this bally old river. Seems he found oil, borrowed the
savings of his servant and bought up some land on the line of the new
discoveries. Then he waited for the syndicate to buy. They ignored him.
They didn't send any one even to investigate his claim. Stupid, rather.

After a while, he went to them, at Prome, at Rangoon. They thought
they knew his kind. Ten thousand rupees was all he asked. They
laughed. The next time he wanted a hundred thousand. They laughed
again. Then he left for the teak forests. He had to live. He came back in
four months. In the meantime they had secretly investigated. They
offered him fifty thousand. He laughed. He wanted two hundred
thousand. They advised him