152 
OUR HOME BIRDS. 
the nest, the male piped forth a triumphant song of 
victor}'.” 
“ I think I’ll look for a black snake now,” said 
Malcolm, starting up impetuously ; “ perhaps there 
is one in these very woods worrying some birds ; 
and I’ll kill him with a stone in the same way.” 
But Clara and Edith began to cry, and Miss Har- 
son requested the young crusader to remain where 
he was, as to go in search of danger was one thing, 
while to protect the party if they were attacked was 
quite another. It was luncheon-time too, and Mal- 
colm’s activity was presently taking quite a different 
direction. 
When Kitty’s nicely-packed basket had been pretty 
well emptied, and the children were amusing them- 
selves by scattering the fragments for the birds and 
squirrels, Miss Harson quietly directed their atten- 
tion to a dead hemlock tree that stood near. There 
seemed to be a great coal of fire on one of the dark 
branches, and it fairly glowed as they gazed at it. 
Every now and then a monotonous kind of song, 
that sounded like chip , churr , repeated at short in- 
tervals, appeared to come from a great distance, and 
presently there was quite a strain of melody, not un- 
like that of the Baltimore oriole. Then this wonder- 
ful coal of fire spread a pair of black wings and float- 
ed away. 
