ies, the children would clap their hands, and say: "Oh, there's
our mountain back again."

In the long nights of winter they babbled of the spring and summertime
to come, when the birds would once more sing for them, and never a day
passed that they didn't fling crumbs outside their door, and on the
borders of the wood that stretched away towards the glen.

When the spring days came they awoke with the first light of the
morning, and they knew the very minute when the lark would begin to
sing, and when the thrush and the blackbird would pour out their liquid
notes, and when the robin would make the soft, green, tender leaves
tremulous at his song.

It chanced one day that when they were resting in the noontide heat,
under the perfumed shade of a hawthorn in bloom, they saw on the edge
of the meadow, spread out before them, a speckled thrush cowering in
the grass.

"Oh, Connla! Connla! Look at the thrush--and, look, look up in the sky,
there is a hawk!" cried Nora.

Connla looked up, and he saw the hawk with quivering wings, and he
knew that in a second it would pounce down on the frightened thrush.
He jumped to his feet, fixed a stone in his sling, and before the whir
of the stone shooting through the air was silent, the stricken hawk
tumbled headlong in the grass.

The thrush, shaking its wings, rose joyously in the air, and perching
upon an elm-tree in sight of the children, he sang a song so sweet that
they left the hawthorn shade and walked along together until they stood
under the branches of the elm; and they listened and listened to the
thrush's song, and at last Nora said:

"Oh, Connla! did you ever hear a song so sweet as this?"

"No," said Connla, "and I do believe sweeter music was never heard
before."

"Ah," said the thrush, "that's because you never heard the nine little
pipers playing. And now, Connla and Nora, you saved my life to-day."

"It was Nora saved it," said Connla, "for she pointed you out to me,
and also pointed out the hawk which was about to pounce on you."

"It was Connla saved you," said Nora, "for he slew the hawk with his
sling."

"I owe my life to both of you," said the thrush. "You like my song, and
you say you have never heard anything so sweet; but wait till you hear
the nine little pipers playing."

"And when shall we hear them?" said the children.

"Well," said the thrush, "sit outside your door to-morrow evening, and
wait and watch until the shadows have crept up t