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Ethel M. Jones,



though at that season a trifle cold—generally bathed in the glorious

sunshine of an early Himalayan spring.


There were few dangers,, the only enemy who might prove

tiresome being the wild cat, and he was too wise to attack nests so

zealously guarded. Thus time passed uneventfully, until one day

robbers appeared in the form of native youths, who, heedless of the

scoldings and plaintive cries of the parent birds, carried into captivity

some eight or nine half-fledged infants. They were taken some miles

away to the bungalow of an English Sahib who had, in a moment

of lightheartedness, without a thought for the consequences, said that

he wished for a pet Raven. The youths having retired with the

desired reward, the Ravens were consigned to an enormous cage, and

the Moorghi - wallah — otherwise known as the custodian of the

poultry-run—was raised to the dignity of a foster-parent. What he

fed his ungainly family on remained a mystery, probably boiled rice,

which to an Indian is an ideal diet for all and sundry, together with

scraps obtained from the cook. However, the majority of the

youngsters survived the ordeal and only one or two succumbed.

Had they all departed this life it would have been pleasanter,

though less amusing for the neighbourhood, as subsequent events

will show.


Having an abundant diet, the youngsters flourished exceedingly

and became fine specimens of their kind, clothed in glorious black

plumage with a purple sheen. When old enough to fly they were

released from captivity—greatly to their joy, but not to that of the

neighbouring community. Instead of being models of respectability

and a credit to the moorghi-wallah who had lavished much care and

attention on their education, they became notorious for their thievish

habits and general immorality. Carpenters were working at that

time on a wing lately added to the bungalow, and it was chiefly on

their tools and other property that this little band of buccaneers

concentrated their energies. Most ingenious were their ways ;

a couple would be innocently warming a stone with every appearance

of intense interest, and the moment the back of the carpenter was

turned, down they would swoop and carry off a packet of screws,

a chisel, or anything bright and shining. A bunch of keys was



