While grandpa and Fred were talking, they suddenly heard a loud cry of distress from the hen in the coop, quickly followed by the cluck, cluck, with which she summoned her chickens under her wings.

Presently Mr. and Mrs. Robin seemed to partake of the fright. She uttered continual sharp cries, while her husband flew with quick, violent motions over his nest.

Fred hastened toward the barn, and saw a large hawk sailing in the air above them. He ran to call his father, who was, fortunately, near at hand.

"Bring my gun," said Mr. Symmes, taking down a flask of powder from a high shelf in the shed.

"Now we'll soon bring him down," he continued, stationing himself at the back door. He took his aim. Annie turned pale, and pressed her hands over her ears. Then came the report; and, true enough, the great, brown bird fell to the ground just in front of the hen-coop at which it had been aiming.

"That was a good shot," remarked grandpa, walking slowly to the place.

"I seldom miss fire," said Mr. Symmes, with a look of honest pride. "My hand is steady, and the gun is a faithful old fellow, that has served honorably in war, and has helped me to get rid of many an enemy."

"O, father, see how it flutters! It is not quite dead."

"Bring it here, child, and I'll put an end to its pain. We should always avoid keeping any living being in misery." He wrung the hawk's neck, though Annie screamed, and then began to cry.

"Why, sis, do you want our chickens and birdies all carried off?" asked Fred. "This is a bad bird, and would have stolen them away if father had not killed it. Hark! there are the robins now singing us a song to thank us for protecting them."

They all stopped for a moment to listen, as the beautiful songsters warbled forth their sweet strains, filling the air with their rich melody.

"Do you suppose they really know what we have done for them?" inquired the boy.

"Certainly I do," answered grandpa, "They made known their wants as well as they were able, and in language that it was easy to understand. The little nestlings knew at once, from the cries of their parents, that there was danger near, and joined in the notes of distress. Now, while their father and mother sit quietly upon the bough singing their thanks, they feel sure the danger is past, and that no accident will happen to them."

"I'm sure the chickies knew," said Annie. "They ran in to their mother as quick as they could, and cuddled together under her wings."

"They knew just as well," replied her father, "and understood her language as quick as you would if your mother saw a great lion in the yard, and called you, [**'?]"Annie, come here! run quick into the house, or you will be killed![**'?]"

In the mean time, Fred had been examining the dead hawk, and now exclaimed, "O, what a strong bird this is! I don't wonder smaller ones are afraid of it."

"It is of the same family as the eagle and falcon," said grandpa, "though, as you see, its beak is very short, and bends gradually from its base. It is naturally a ferocious bird, but is capable of strong affection for those who treat it with kindness. In England, hawks were formerly much prized, as they were trained to catch game of various sorts, and sometimes became so tame that they would not only come when called, but they would bring home to their owner whatever they took in their flight.

"A hawk which was once owned by a gentleman in England, escaped from its owner, after accompanying him on a hunting expedition, and flew hundreds of miles in the short space of about six hours. It alighted on a vessel bound for America from Europe, which was nearly midway on her passage, and was recognized by a silver ring on its leg, with the owner's name engraved upon it."

"Did it remain on board the vessel?" inquired Fred, earnestly.

"For some days it did, my dear, and then it took its flight."

"Do you suppose it could find its way back to its master?" asked Annie.

"O, yes, as easily as the robins in the tree will find their way back to our farm when spring comes again," said grandpa with a smile.

"The chickens are all out again now," said the little girl, running to the coop.

"Yes, indeed!" exclaimed her brother; "they have forgotten all about their fright by this time. Grandpa, what would you do with this dead hawk?"

"I would dig a hole in the ground and bury it, my dear."