The others were as much puzzled as he--all except the Malay, who at a glance understood the philosophy of the movement.
"Young malee inside," he cried in explanation.

"We no eat egg, we get chickee.

Wait little minnit.

You him see come out full featha." Truly enough the "chicks" did come out, not as down-covered helpless creatures, but pults in full plumage, as Saloo had predicted: at all events, full enough to enable them to fly; for as the shells one after another commenced crackling--burst outward by the young birds' strength--each showed a perfect fledgling; that, springing forth from the shivered encasement, like Jack out of his box, at once flapped its little wings, and essayed short flights over the surface of the sand.
So much were the spectators taken by surprise, that one and all of the new-born but completely equipped birds, would have winged their way into the forest and been lost, had it not been for Saloo, who, accustomed to such transformations, was in no way discomposed, but preserved his coolness and equanimity.
Fortified by these, and armed with the boat-hook, which he had suddenly seized, he struck down the precocious chicks one after another, and put an end to their aspiring flights by laying them lifeless upon the sand.
In the end it was neither eggs nor omelettes, but tender, delicate "squabs" the castaways had for their prandial repast..