LITTLE PRISONERS IN THE TOWER. 73 



I stood below holding the carving-knife, — we 

 hadn't many tools on the ranch, — and as the boy 

 worked he entertained me with an account of an 

 accident that happened years before, when his 

 brother had chopped off a branch and the axe head 

 had glanced off, striking the head of the boy who 

 was watching below. I stood from under as he 

 finished his story, and inquired with interest if he 

 were sure his axe head was tight ! Before the lad 

 had made much impression on the hard sycamore, 

 he got so tired and looked so white around the 

 mouth that I insisted on his getting down to rest, 

 and tried to divert him by calling his attention to 

 the sunset and the voices of the quail calling from 

 the vineyard. When he went up again I handed 

 him the carving-knife to slice off the thinner wood 

 on the edge of the nest hole, warning him not to 

 cut off the heads of the young birds. 



At last the hole was big enough, and, sticking 

 the hatchet and knife into the bark, the lad threw 

 one arm around the trunk to hold on while he 

 thrust his hand down into the nest. " My, what 

 a deep hole ! " he exclaimed. " I don't know as 

 I can reach them now. They 've gone to the bot- 

 tom, they're so afraid." Nearly a foot down he 

 had to squeeze, but at last got hold of one bird 

 and brought it out. " Drop him down," I cried, 

 " I '11 catch him," and held up my hands. The 

 little bird came fluttering through the air. The 

 second bird clung frightened to the boy's coat, but 



