He hardly knew what strange evil this omen of harm might portend for the world.

The Soul of all dead parrots had carried out the curse, and had drawn red drops from the sacred veins of Tu-Kila-Kila.
One must be a savage one's self, and superstitious at that, fully to understand the awful significance of this deadly occurrence.

To draw blood from a god, and, above all, to let that blood fall upon the dust of the ground, is the very worst luck--too awful for the human mind to contemplate.
At the same moment, the parrot, awakened by the unexpected attack, threw back its head on its perch, and, laughing loud and long to itself in its own harsh way, began to pour forth a whole volley of oaths in a guttural language, of which neither Tu-Kila-Kila nor the Frenchman understood one syllable.

And at the same moment, too, M.Peyron himself, recalled from the door of his hut by Tu-Kila-Kila's sharp cry of pain and by his liege subject's voluble flow of loud speech and laughter, ran up all agog to know what was the matter.
Tu-Kila-Kila, with an effort, tried to hide in his robe his wounded finger.

But the Frenchman caught at the meaning of the whole scene at once, and interposed himself hastily between the parrot and its assailant.