s in
the crocheted rug.

This freedom worked wonders with his plumage. His dark brown head fairly
shone, his sable breast and back grew glossy, and his wings took on
faint, changing tints of purple and blue. His jet rudder, daily dressed
to its iridescent tip by his ebony beak, was flicked jauntily as he
strode around on his long black legs. And all this alert, engaging
beauty won the friendship of the farm-house, including even that of the
little girl's big brothers, who advised her to clip his wings if she
wanted to keep him; for when he had once reached full size, they said,
he would fly away to join the cowbird colonies up the river. But the
little girl would never consent to any use of the scissors.

Throughout the remainder of the summer he went everywhere with her,
perching on her shoulder when she drove the cattle to the meadows,
riding with her on the pinto if she were sent on an errand, or walking
beside her in the farm-yard. He never flew far from her, and could
always be coaxed back if she whistled and showed her teeth. They spent
many an afternoon together on the prairie while the little girl herded.
And when the cows were headed away from the wheat and were grazing
quietly, he would leave her and fly to the back of Liney, the muley,
where he would walk up and down the broad, white mark that ran from her
horns to her tail, and catch insects. Liney, who liked the sharp thrust
of his bill where a mosquito had been stinging, was careful not to
wiggle her hide and scare him away. At dinner-time he joined the little
girl and shared her gingerbread.

One night, just before the cows started for the milking-pen, a big flock
of cowbirds flew down and alighted in the midst of them, some of the
birds perching upon the backs of the cattle to catch their supper. When
the little girl saw the black company, she looked around for her bird,
but could not tell him from the others. There were three perched upon
Liney's back, and, hoping that one of them was he, she ran toward the
cow, calling softly and showing her teeth. But as she came close, the
three flew away to the roan heifer. Half weeping, she ran after them,
calling still, and smiling to entice him. The birds rose into the air
again, this time alighting around the farthest cow in the herd.

Overwhelmed with sorrow, the little girl turned back to where the
cattle-gad lay, holding her apron up to her wet eyes as she stumbled
miserably along. But just as she flung h