THE REDWING 
wing passed on the word, till one by one the 
whole flock headed for the safety of the trees. 
That is, all but the crippled bird. An hour 
passed in the company of his kind, and old 
instincts had awakened as strongly as ever. Not 
for many days had he tried to fly, but under the 
rustle of his brothers' rising, the lessons which 
necessity had taught him all these weeks were 
obliterated, and he sprang up, wings outspread. 
The green field rose swiftly up to meet him, 
and he fell back on to the grass. Nothing 
daunted, he began to run. Had he known it, 
it would have been wiser to have squatted 
where he fell among the clods. As it was, the 
hawk spied him, and wheeled up wind. 
Shacaim heard the swish of the stiffened wings 
as his pursuer stooped to strike, then the talons 
gripped him across the thighs, clutching to the 
bone. The hawk rose laboriously with his 
quarry. The grass spun away beneath them. . . 
They rose above the cabbages, above the cabin 
. . . even above the smoke wreath, to the level 
of the great ash fork. Then the hawk's hold 
slipped, and he shot skywards, suddenly 
lightened, with his claws full of feathers. 
Shacaim parachuted dizzily earthwards. Seabac 
dived sheer down after his prey like a swallow, 
but he stooped just too late, for his victim had 
fluttered down to the feet of Mrs. Maguire, and 
1 59 
