58 SAMARITANS 



was something of the frenzy of April in 

 their labour. 



In the evening I was amazed by what I 

 saw. The toiling pair had been joined by 

 about a dozen other martins, all bearing 

 beakfuls of mud and grass to the precipitous 

 site. In regular order came mud, quickly 

 moulded and kneaded into place, then came 

 a broken straw, a rootlet, or a twitch of grass. 

 There was just time to place this in position 

 before another bird would arrive. A sweet 

 soft trickle of eagerness fell continually from 

 just above my window. The next morning 

 succour was still availing, and quickly the 

 nest grew. We discussed this in the village, 

 but even the oldest granfer had never heard 

 tell of such a thing before. Toilers in the 

 harvest fields (the "unimaginative labourers") 

 paused and regarded. They were interested, 

 and many pondered the problem with me. 



" League o* Nations," grinned one. 

 " There is much friendship among birds," 

 I said. " Aiy, aiy! " agreed another, and 



