igged-up broomsticks ain't in it with a live bird when it
comes ter drivin' away them pesky, thievin' crows. There ain't a farmer
'round here that hain't been green with envy, ever since I caught the
critter. An' now ter have you come along an' with one flip o'yer knife
spile it all, I--Well, it jest makes me mad, clean through! That's all."

"You mean, you tied him there to frighten away the other crows?"

"Sure! There ain't nothin' like it."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"Well, you'd better be. But that won't bring back my crow!"

David's face brightened.

"No, that's so, isn't it? I'm glad of that. I was thinking of the
crows, you see. I'm so sorry for them! Only think how we'd hate to be
tied like that--" But Perry Larson, with a stare and an indignant
snort, had got to his feet, and was rapidly walking toward the house.

Very plainly, that evening, David was in disgrace, and it took all of
Mrs. Holly's tact and patience, and some private pleading, to keep a
general explosion from wrecking all chances of his staying longer at
the farmhouse. Even as it was, David was sorrowfully aware that he was
proving to be a great disappointment so soon, and his violin playing
that evening carried a moaning plaintiveness that would have been very
significant to one who knew David well.

Very faithfully, the next day, the boy tried to carry out all the
"dos," and though he did not always succeed, yet his efforts were so
obvious, that even the indignant owner of the liberated crow was
somewhat mollified; and again Simeon Holly released David from work at
four o'clock.

Alas, for David's peace of mind, however; for on his walk to-day,
though he found no captive crow to demand his sympathy, he found
something else quite as heartrending, and as incomprehensible.

It was on the edge of the woods that he came upon two boys, each
carrying a rifle, a dead squirrel, and a dead rabbit. The threatened
rain of the day before had not materialized, and David had his violin.
He had been playing softly when he came upon the boys where the path
entered the woods.

"Oh!" At sight of the boys and their burden David gave an involuntary
cry, and stopped playing.

The boys, scarcely less surprised at sight of David and his violin,
paused and stared frankly.

"It's the tramp kid with his fiddle," whispered one to the other
huskily.

David, his grieved eyes on the motionless little bodies in the boys'
hands, shuddered.

"Are they--dead, too?"