192 
NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 
a quail bevy would create at the moment, should 
such a calamity pass that way. But, however 
much I would have liked to play guardian, I 
could tarry no longer. That evening as I re¬ 
turned, I peeped eagerly into the grassy clump, 
half-expecting to find it empty. But lo! there 
were the baby longhorns cuddled down in a little 
knot together fast asleep. Fate had been kind. 
Few, if any, of their number were missing. 
What would the morrow bring forth? How long 
would it be before they adopted the murderous 
calling of their mother, and ceased to go to bed 
at night as good folks should? I did not pass 
that way again for several weeks, and if the merry 
little goldfinch I found swaying on a weed stalk 
above the deserted home knew anything of the 
longhorns, at least he kept his own counsel.” 
