and we concluded that a brisk combat was going on between Master
Knips and the tenants of the thickets, from whence the noise came.
Ernest went softly to see what was the matter, and we soon heard him
calling out, "Be quick! a fine heath-fowl's nest, full of eggs! Knips
wants to suck them, and the mother is beating him."

Fritz ran up, and secured the two beautiful birds, who fluttered, and
cried out furiously, and returned, followed by Ernest, carrying a large
nest filled with eggs. The monkey had served us well on this occasion;
for the nest was so hidden by a bush with long leaves, of which Ernest
held his hand full, that, but for the instinct of the animal, we could
never have discovered it. Ernest was overjoyed to carry the nest and
eggs for his dear mamma, and the long, pointed leaves he intended for
Francis, to serve as little toy-swords.

We set out on our return, placing the sack of acorns behind Fritz on
Lightfoot; Ernest carried the two fowls, and I charged myself with the
care of the eggs, which I covered up, as I found they were warm, and I
hoped to get the mother to resume her brooding when we got to Falcon's
Nest. We were all delighted with the good news we should have to carry
home, and Fritz, anxious to be first, struck his charger with a bunch of
the pointed leaves he had taken from Ernest: this terrified the animal
so much, that he took the bit in his teeth, and flew out of sight like
an arrow. We followed, in some uneasiness, but found him safe. Master
Lightfoot had stopped of himself when he reached his stable. My wife
placed the valuable eggs under a sitting hen, the true mother refusing
to fulfil her office. She was then put into the cage of the poor
parrot, and hung in our dining-room, to accustom her to society. In a
few days the eggs were hatched, and the poultry-yard had an increase of
fifteen little strangers, who fed greedily on bruised acorns, and soon
became as tame as any of our fowls, though I plucked the large feathers
out of their wings when they were full-grown, lest their wild nature
should tempt them to quit us.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Francis had soon become tired of playing with the long leaves his
brother had brought him, and they were thrown aside. Fritz happened to
take some of the withered leaves up, which were soft and flexible as a
ribbon, and he advised Francis to make whiplashes of them, to drive the
goats and sheep with, for