A WINGED CHUM 187 



four eggs in it, pale greenisli-blue, almost exactly- 

 like those of a Robin. For a brief second Shan 

 had a sudden fear that these might be Robin's 

 eggs, and not those of the Thrush at all. 



He remembered immediately, however, that the 

 Robin is an honest bird, and does not lay her eggs 

 in another bird's nest. That villainy is reserved, 

 in America, for the Cowbird, a contemptible 

 tramp, the hobo of bird-land, who never makes a 

 nest at all. At breeding-time the hen-bird may be 

 seen sneaking through the woods in quest of a nest 

 from which the mother may be temporarily absent, 

 in which to lay her gray, speckled egg. The Cow- 

 bird is an outcast and a pariah. No self-respect- 

 ing American bird will be seen in his company. 

 He is friendless save for the low-class English 

 Sparrow, who is not much better than he. 



Unquestionably these must be the eggs of the 

 Wood Thrush. Shan had to struggle with himself 

 not to step out and take one of the eggs, at least, 

 for his collection, but he determined to leave the 

 lesser gain for the greater, and to watch the life of 

 the family instead of destroying it. 



He re-read in the streaked light that filtered 

 through the brushwood blind the last letter he had 

 received from his friend in the Biological Survey, 



