down closer and closer to the water. Ten feet 
more and Longtoe would be in the bushes, but 
the hawk gave a fearful downward lunge and its 
long yellow claws reached out to seize its prey. 
Longtoe was panting wildly, his legs and feet 
hanging down from sheer exhaustion. 
Once more the robin dodged downward, ever 
so near the top of a row-boat lying against the 
shore. And then, just as the hawk thought he 
had him, the long toe-nail on one of the dangling 
feet caught on the gunwale of the boat and threw 
the robin forward and downward into a tall 
tin bucket that sat in the bottom. The hawk 
swerved upward, whirled, and came back looking 
for his breakfast, but he never saw Longtoe, 
who lay as if dead. Perhaps he had fainted. 
This I am sure would have been the end of our 
robin friend, if a certain man on the New Jersey 
coast who planned to go fishing that morning 
had not forgotten his fish-hooks. After getting 
his boat all ready he remembered, and so went 
back to the house to find them. Half an hour 
later when he returned, what do you suppose 
he saw? You could never guess, and so I will 
75 
