4 OUR HUMBLE HELPERS 



luster form a graceful arch of plumage in the upper 

 part of the tail. The heel is armed with a horny 

 spur, hard and pointed; a formidable weapon with 

 which, in fighting, the cock stabs his rival to death. 

 His song is a resonant peal that makes itself heard 

 at all hours, night as well as day. Hardly does the 

 sky begin to brighten with the twilight of dawn when, 

 erect on his perch, he awakens the nocturnal echoes 

 with his piercing cock-a-doodle-doo, the reveille of 

 the farm. ' ' 



"That," said Emile, "is the song I like so much to 

 hear in the morning when I am about half-way be- 

 tween sleeping and waking. ' > 



"It is the cock's crowing," put in Louis, "that 

 wakes me up in the morning when I have to go to 

 market in the next town. > ' 



"The cock is the king of the poultry-yard," re- 

 sumed Uncle Paul. "Full of care for his hens, he 

 leads them, protects them, scolds and punishes them. 

 He watches over those that wander off, goes in quest 

 of the vagrants, and brings them back with little 

 cries of impatience, which, no doubt, are admoni- 

 tions. If necessary, a peck with the beak persuades 

 the more refractory. But if he finds food, such as 

 grain, insects, or worms, he straightway lifts up his 

 voice and calls the hens to the banquet. He himself, 

 however, magnificent and generous, stands in the 

 midst of the throng and scratches the earth to turn 

 up the worms and distribute here and there to the 

 invited guests the dainties thus unearthed. If some 

 greedy hen takes more than her share, he recalls her 



