Part 10 (1/2)

”This is my bed, Mr. Howard,” answered Tom, who by this time had burrowed deep into the oats, and had no intention of leaving his snug nest.

”Come up here, my little man,” said the farmer. ”I'll have a bed for you before you can say 'Jack Robinson.'” He then pulled two bundles of oats from the stack, and shoved the little sleeper into his improvised resting-place.

”Is everybody fixed for the night?” asked he. ”We have two kinds of beds in this hotel--one of oats and the other of straw. You can have your choice, the cost is the same.”

Everybody seemed contented.

”Well, go to sleep, boys! I'll be here with you all night.”

Mr. Howard took a seat on an old barrel in front of the crowd. The boys were completely exhausted after their day's romping, and were soon fast asleep. Seeing that his services were no longer needed, the farmer threw himself upon the hay and followed their example.

On the following morning the children were dismissed immediately after breakfast. Father Byrne also took his departure; not, however, until he had encouraged David to prepare well for his coming battle with Goliath.

CHAPTER IX.

THE PRACTICE.

After supper on that same day, Owen left the house, and with a quick step followed a path which led over the hills through a large cedar grove. Here he mounted an old stump and gave a shrill whistle. No answer came but the distant echo. So he sat down upon the stump and began to mend a wide-mouthed sack, which he carried under his arm and which the mice had evidently been using for their habitation, having gnawed s.p.a.cious doors and miniature windows in many places.

Every few seconds the prevailing stillness was broken by the whiz of myriads of wings, as flock after flock of robins settled in the deep glade for the night. It has been a.s.serted by some naturalists that the robin is not a migratory bird. It is true that a few can be found in the thicket and barnyard during the winter months, but by far the greater number follow the swallow and blue-bird to warmer climes. Toward the latter part of autumn they pa.s.s through the Middle States, not by thousands only, but by millions. The thick cedar glades in central Kentucky were a favorite resort for them in their pa.s.sage, and at night countless numbers roosted in the dark evergreen branches.

It was to secure a number of robins that Owen had ventured out. After repairing the sack with strips of elm bark, he again mounted the stump and gave another whistle. Soon Martin Cooper issued from among the cedars, at the same time waving a lantern above his head. He, too, carried a sack.

When it was quite dark, and the robins had settled down for the night, the boys crept stealthily along into the thickest part of the glade, carrying the lighted lantern. Now the fun began. Climbing a few feet up the trees and opening their sacks, Owen and Martin commenced to capture the affrighted robins. Many of the birds were so dazed by the light that they sat perfectly quiet, and were thrust into the sacks as easily as if they were apples hanging from a bough. Many, too, startled by the swaying branches, flew madly into the thicket, and by their cries spread the alarm throughout the evergreen domain.

Soon the whole glade was alive with the flutter and cries of the robins.

Darting from tree to tree, they frightened those yet undisturbed. Robins screamed piteously. Robins yelled like street boys at the sound of the fire alarm. Old robins were demanding silence, and young robins were asking advice. Captured robins were fluttering in their prisons, and affrighted robins, dropping suddenly among the branches around the lantern, shared the fate of their doomed companions. Robins, robins, robins; singing, screaming, crying, laughing, up and down, back and forth they flew, until the sacks were filled and the boys departed.

An hour later all was quiet again among the evergreen. Old robins dozed quietly on the branches, while young robins on their first trip to the South dreamed of the rice-fields and orange-groves of the tropic zone.

And still an hour later not less than four hundred captured robins, though imprisoned in a coop, dreamed that they were roosting among the cedars; while Owen and Martin in their snug beds dreamed of the shooting-match, and their future victory over c.o.o.n-Hollow Jim.

”h.e.l.loo, Mart! What made you so late?” said Owen as Martin entered the field chosen as the place of practice.

”Late! It isn't late yet. You can kill many a robin before dark,”

answered Martin, at the same time putting down a box which he carried on his shoulder. ”Here is the trap which I promised to make for you,” he continued. ”It works well, too. I had hard work in getting a good piece of wood for the trigger. That's what made me so late.”

”Works nicely,” said Owen, as Martin touched the trigger and the door flew open.

”How many robins did you bring along?” inquired Martin.

”About fifty.”

”That's as many as we can use. Now let us start to work.”