his head down into his shoulders, and shut 



59 

 his eyes, and tried to forget that he was 



hungry. The meaning of the little comedy Cloud-lOinds 



was plain enough. She was trying to teach me <^ gf/e 



him to fly, telling him that his wings were 



grown and the time was come to use them ; 



but he was afraid. 



In a little while she came back again, this 

 time without food, and hovered over the nest, 

 trying every way to induce the little one to 

 leave it. She succeeded at last, when with a 

 desperate effort he sprang upward and flapped 

 to the ledge above, where I had sat and 

 watched him with Old Whitehead. Then, 

 after surveying the world gravely from his 

 new place, he flapped back to the nest, and 

 turned a deaf ear to all his mother's assur- 

 ances that he could fly just as easily to the 

 tree-tops below, if he only would. 



Suddenly, as if discouraged, she rose well 

 above him. I held my breath, for I knew 

 what was coming. The little fellow stood on 

 the edge of the nest, looking down at the 

 plunge which he dared not take. There was 

 a sharp cry from behind, which made him 



