EARNING A TITLE 17 



hunted a long stick and by patient manoeuvring 

 drove him to the woodhouse, where he chmbed 

 to the highest part of the corded wood. There he 

 sat in sullen suffering for the remainder of the day. 

 The next morning I went to him very early. I 

 thought that after a day and a night with a broken 

 wing and without food or drink he would surely 

 allow me to care for him. I cautiously approached 

 him with a basin of water. He drew back as far 

 as he could crowd into a corner. I had always 

 heard that wounded soldiers were frantic for water, 

 so I patiently held the basin before the bird, dab- 

 bling and splashing to show him that it contained 

 water. Suddenly, he thrust in his beak and drank 

 like a famished creature. Then I offered him some 

 scraped meat, which he finally took from the end 

 of a stick. The flies began to cluster over the 

 broken wing, and I knew that that must be stopped; 

 so with one clip of the sheep shears I cut through 

 the skin and muscle that held the dangling tip. 

 The bird uttered a shrill scream, but he did not 

 attack me. Then I poured cold water over the 

 hurt wing, which was kept stiffly extended, until 

 it was washed clean. From the time I put the 

 cold water on, the bird ceased even to threaten me. 

 He seemed to realize that his pain was relieved. 

 Then I went into the house to ask my mother if 

 there was not something in her medicine chest 

 that would help heal the wound and keep away 

 the flies. She thought that there was, and as 



