A WINGED CHUM 189 



traordinary as scarcely to be believed. An Owl 

 will send his *'lioot-lioot" ringing through the 

 moon-lit woods, and if a little mouse so much as 

 shivers in terror, the Owl hears that tiny rustle 

 and the mouse never shivers again. So Shan sat 

 still, hardly daring to breathe. 



Though it was a warm day for Spring, and tho 

 sun was filtering goldenly through the leaves, it 

 was not shining on the eggs. A nest cannot be 

 left too long or the eggs will get cold. So, in 

 a minute or two, with another dubious cry, the 

 mother Thrush flew to a branch close to the nest 

 and chirked her head from side to side to make 

 sure that there was no intruder near. 



Shan, watching through the hole, saw in every 

 movement of the bird that she was suspicious of 

 the brushwood blind. It had not been there when 

 she had built her nest. Her steadiest and keen- 

 est watching, however, had revealed nothing defi- 

 nitely wrong, and, meantime, the eggs were get- 

 ting cold. Greatly daring, she flew on to the nest. 



For a quarter of an hour or more Shan did not 

 move, not until the glint of the sun through the 

 branches reached the point at which he had de- 

 cided to try and take the portrait of the Thrush. 

 Then, stepping carefully and softly, watching to 



