*MY INFANCY^ 



35 



was eaten up. I got so frightened at the way in 

 which my companions vanished that I only crawled 

 about very quietly in the hedges, except on very 

 dark nights, and even then only very late, long after 

 your bed-time. 



Our nest was in a nice warm bank on the side of 

 a wood, which was covered with primroses soon 

 after I began to grow. It was rather a good place 

 to choose, in spite of the owls, because the wood 

 was full of pheasants, and the keepers put down 

 plenty of corn all through the hard weather — beau- 

 tiful yellow Indian corn — and sometimes raisins, and 

 there were drinking-troughs full of water, which was 

 never allowed to freeze. Nothing could have been 

 nicer or kinder. And they did not try to set traps 

 for us, either, because, as I heard them say once, 

 where there are plenty of rats the foxes and the 

 owls don't bother much about the young pheasants. 

 Of course, just now and then, as a treat, we had 

 young pheasant for dinner, but it was generally 

 only a sickly one or even a dead one, because the 

 others can run very fast, and their mother is always 

 on the look out to protect them, and it takes a very 

 big rat to catch a young pheasant when the mother 

 is at hand. 



So we were left in peace to keep the foxes and 



3—2 



