Junior Naturalist Monthly. 357 



old Cinnamon squawked and tried to get out of her coop. Tom 

 jumped up just in time to see Muff disappear like a flash around the 

 corner and under the shed. Yes, it was Muff, his pet cat, that had 

 rubbed up against his legs so innocently when he had fed her that 

 morning. Tim, the hired man, offered to shoot the cat, but Tom 

 thought of the little kittens with their eyes just opened, and forgave 

 Muff. He did not trust her, however. He built a wire-covered yard 

 so that hawks and cats could not get at his chickens. There they 

 stayed until they were large enough to look out for themselves. The 

 coop and yard were moved often so that the chickens could be on 

 clean grass. 



In a little while the chickens grew so large that when they attempted 

 to get under their mother, they lifted her nearly off the ground. Then 

 she began to wean them. Each day for a little while, she would run 

 away, but she would always come back at night to protect her 

 chickens. When they were old enough to go to roost and had a nice 

 coat of feathers to keep them warm, old Cinnamon went back to roost 

 with the other hens and soon began to lay again in the very same 

 nest where she had hatched her little ones. " What did Tom do with 

 the eggs?" Oh, don't ask any more questions. Perhaps some day 

 I shall find time to tell you. 



