72 A-BIRDING ON A BRONCO. 



not get up it, though' he had always been a good 

 climber. He clambered up a drooping branch on 

 the back of the tree, — the nest was in front, — 

 but could not swing himself around when he got 

 up. Then he tried the hollow burned at the foot 

 of the tree. The charred wood crumbled beneath 

 his feet, but at last, by stretching up and clinging 

 to a knothole, he managed to reach the nest. 



As his fingers went down the hole, the young 

 birds grabbed them, probably mistaking them for 

 their parents' bills. "Their throats seem hot," 

 the boy exclaimed ; "poor hungry little things ! " 

 His fingers would go through the nest hole, but not 

 his knuckles, and the knothole where he steadied 

 himself was too slippery to stand on while he en- 

 larged the hole. It was getting late, and as he had 

 his chores to do before dark I suggested that we 

 feed the birds and leave them in the tree till morn- 

 ing ; but the rescuer exclaimed resolutely, " We '11 

 get them out to-night ! " and hurried off to the 

 ranch-house for a step-ladder and axe. 



The ladder did not reach up to the first knot- 

 hole, four or five feet below the nest ; but the boy 

 cut a notch in the top of the knot and stood in it, 

 practically on one foot, and held on to a small 

 branch with his right hand — the first limb he 

 trusted to broke off as he caught it — while with 

 the left hand he hacked away at the nest hole. 

 It was a ticklish position and genuine work, for 

 the wood was hard and the hatchet dull. 



