TO CATCH SHEATHBILL 
* OTHER, mother, I’m hun¬ 
gry. GiVe me my breakfast,” 
cried Mannie Penguin, as he 
ran after the large Mrs. Pen¬ 
guin with the fish in her 
basket. 
“You run away, little fellow, I’m not your 
mother,” smiled the large Mrs. Penguin. 
But Mannie did not run away; he followed 
right on her heels and kept crying, “Give me 
my breakfast. I am your child. I am Mannie 
Penguin. Give me my breakfast.” 
But the lady only laughed loud and long, 
and called back at him, “Go hunt your own 
mother. I am not your mother.” 
But Mannie was too hungry to go hunting 
anyone else. Was not here a fine mother with 
a large fish? And did she not look like the 
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