166 A TRAGEDY IN THE MAPLE-TREE. 



Still the little wife refused to be bullied into 

 a fight, and after a while the small assailant 

 was obliged to go to the ground for food to sus- 

 tain the strength on which his passion was 

 drawing so severely. As soon as he was gone 

 she came out, and after arranging her feathers 

 a moment coolly flew down for her own break- 

 fast. With opera-glass in hand I now watched 

 with deepest interest. No sooner would the 

 rustle of his wings be hesft*d, returning, than 

 like a brown streak she rushed in ahead of him, 

 not stopping to alight as usual, but dashing in 

 on the wing. At this his anger was fearful. 

 He sometimes alighted on the threshold, as if 

 to defy her, but suddenly his wings fluttered, 

 and he jerked away, as though she had seized 

 his foot. He then returned to a perch, and re- 

 sumed his former proceedings. These actions 

 were kept up the whole day. I could not watch 

 them every moment, but I looked frequently, 

 and always found the contest proceeding in the 

 same way. At bed-time she was in the nest, 

 and he went away. 



The next morning the struggle was still pro- 

 gressing, with a difference. The hen had be- 

 come more bold, or more careless, and the cock 

 more desperate. She would go out and leave 

 the nest, and let him come home and find it 

 empty. Now was his chance, if he wished to 



