WILD LIFE ON THE WING 
albeit in distant degree, and, before the sunshine 
had left the valley below, they were feeding side 
by side in the friendliest fashion. But all the 
while the Yellow Pullet led the way farther and 
farther down the wood, and Creaban followed 
docilely enough. At length they came to a place 
where the trees grew very thinly, and the 
undergrowth was honeycombed with runways. 
The grass was trampled down, and a blue 
wreath of smoke clung among the branches 
overhead. It was the end of the wood. To 
the left a thin hedge separated the trees from 
a field ; and the Yellow Pullet crept through 
it on to the open grass without hesitation, but 
here Creaban drew back. There were more 
fowls feeding in the field, perhaps a score of 
them brown, white and yellow ; and as 
Creaban stood uncertainly under the fence, a 
great red cock stood up and told the world 
that it belonged to him. The Yellow Pullet 
ran across the grass and joined them ; but 
Creaban, hand-reared as he was, already mis- 
trusted wide open spaces and strange surround- 
ings, and he slipped back into the wood. But 
a few minutes later, when he heard the red 
cock crow again, he stood on tiptoe and replied 
with the loud clear challenge of his kind : 
" Kor-kock ! " that it might be known that for 
the first time a pheasant had come to Tonsella. 
'74 
