Banner tail 



Bannertail's mate, helpless in the distant 

 nest, would have seen him borne away. 

 But as they closed, he leaped — leaped 

 with all his strength, far from them into 

 open air, and faster than they could fly 

 in such a place, down, down, his silver 

 plume in function just behind him, down 

 a hundred feet to fall and land in a 

 thicket of laurel, wounded and bleeding, 

 but safe. He scrambled into a thicker 

 maze, and gazed with new and tenser 

 feelings at the baffled Hen-hawks, circling, 

 screaming high above him. 



Soon the bandits gave up. Clearly the 

 Graycoat had won, and they flew to levy 

 their robber -baron tribute on some others 

 that they held to be their vassals. 



Yes, Bannertail had won, by a narrow 

 lead. He had taken a mighty hazard and 

 had learned new wisdom — Never play 

 the game with death till you have to, for 

 if you win one hundred times and lose 



[ 226] 



