CHAPTER VI 



KNIGHTS OF THE CHISEL 



(Woodpeckers) 



NED," said I one day, "I wish you'd keep your eyes 

 open for a good woodpecker's hole situated so 

 that I might be able to get some pictures of the 

 old bird at the entrance. You know we've got pictures 

 of some of them eating suet, but I haven't anything 

 about their nesting, and we must have it for the book." 



"What kind you want.^" he asked, stopping for a 

 moment his operations on his broken butterfly net. 



"Why, an Arctic Three-toed, or a Pileated, would 

 suit me tiptop," I ventured. 



"Oh, you go chase yourself!" exclaimed the fancier 

 of the "butterfly etude." (Ned was as fond of music 

 as of birds and butterflies.) "Do you think I'm going 

 to climb the North Pole to find those rare things .'^ 

 Give me something easier." 



"All right," said I. "I'll relent and give you the 

 commonest kind there is, the fellow so well known that 

 he has any number of names — Flicker, Yellow-hammer, 

 High-hole, or, if you want to be more swell, Golden- 

 winged Woodpecker. Do you think you could find 

 one.?" 



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