  The boys spent an uncomfortable night in Father Thrift’s cave. Half the time they could not sleep. And, worse still, the other half they dreamed such dreadful dreams! But the next morning, after they had had breakfast with Father Thrift and Shaggy Bear, the boys felt much better. Still, they had a feeling that something terrible was about to happen to them. How they longed to go home! Then the queer little old man seated himself on a log just outside the door of the cave. “Shaggy Bear,” he said, “go, tell Jenny Soon all the birds had come. And, oh! what excitement there was when they saw the boys! “Shoot them with an arrow! Hit them with a stone! Kill them!” the angry little creatures cried. Father Thrift lifted his hand for order. When things were quiet, and the birds had gathered around him, the queer little old man stood up. In a soft and somewhat sad voice he said to the birds: “My friends, let us act calmly and justly. Let us consider well before we decide on the punishment which these boys should receive if they are found guilty.” “But,” protested Mr. Robin, “they climbed into our tree and stole our eggs.” “They ruined my home,” cried Cousin Bluebird, “and they wasted your apples in doing it!” “Yes, and they knocked down my nest and broke all the eggs in it,” added Mr. Kingbird. “They broke my leg with a stone from a sling shot,” piped Brown Thrasher. “And they killed my poor husband,” cried Mrs. Bobolink. “They stole our four little children,” sobbed the Meadow Larks. “And they shot a bird with an arrow yesterday,” added Shaggy Bear. “Here is the bird. Here, too, are the bow and the arrow.” And he handed them all to Father Thrift. “Why, they’ve shot my cousin, Blackbird!” cried the Crow, who had been quiet up to now. “I have a good mind to bite off their noses and scratch out their eyes.” “R-r-r-r-r-r! Charr! charr! charr!” All the birds became very much excited. They screamed and fluttered their wings, and their eyes shone with anger. The boys were badly frightened. But Father Thrift quickly restored order. He said: “Let us first hear what the boys have to say. We will ask them a few questions.” He faced the boys. “Did you do what the birds say you did?” he asked. The boys hung their heads in shame. Then one of them answered, after a pause, “I guess so.” “Why did you do it?” asked Father Thrift. “Well,” replied the other boy, “most of the birds are no good, anyway. They just eat everything we plant.” “What of yours have they eaten?” asked Father Thrift. “The robins have been stealing our cherries,” said the boy, “until we have hardly any left for ourselves. “The bluebirds eat our berries and grapes. “The kingbirds eat not only our fruit, but our honeybees as well. “The brown thrashers eat our raspberries and currants, while whole flocks of bobolinks get their food from our oat fields. “The meadow larks eat our grain. “And as for the blackbirds and crows, they are the worst thieves in the world. They even pull up our sprouting grain. “So why shouldn’t we kill the birds? “And, besides, we haven’t killed more than a dozen of them. Who would miss a dozen in a world so full of birds?” By this time most of the birds were quivering with anger. And they cried again: “Shoot them with an arrow! Hit them with a stone! Kill them! “Who would miss two in a world so full of boys?” “Listen, my friends,” said Father Thrift. “I agree with you that the boys deserve to be treated in the same way that they have treated you. They have been cruel. “Still, let us not act in haste or anger. Let us think matters over well. Perhaps we shall find that some wrong has been done on both sides. “Go, now, and return at two o’clock. We will decide then what it is best to do.” |
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