his hand. And when the food comes, the peeping
is at its very loudest. The holy man is disturbed in his prayers by
that peeping.

And gently, gently he bends his arm, which has almost lost the
power of moving, and his little fiery eyes stare down into the
nest.

Never had he seen anything so helplessly ugly and miserable: small,
naked bodies, with a little thin down, no eyes, no power of flight,
nothing really but six big, gaping mouths.

It seemed very strange to him, but he liked them just as they were.
Their father and mother he had never spared in the general
destruction, but when hereafter he called to God to ask of Him the
salvation of the world through its annihilation, he made a silent
exception of those six helpless ones.

When the peasant women now brought him food, he no longer thanked
them by wishing their destruction. Since he was necessary to the
little creatures up there, he was glad that they did not let him
starve to death.

Soon six round heads were to be seen the whole day long stretching
over the edge of the nest. Old Hatto's arm sank more and more often
to the level of his eyes. He saw the feathers push out through the
red skin, the eyes open, the bodies round out. Happy inheritors of
the beauty nature has given to flying creatures, they developed
quickly in their loveliness.

And during all this time prayers for the great destruction rose
more and more hesitatingly to old Hatto's lips. He thought that he
had God's promise, that it should come when the little birds were
fledged. Now he seemed to be searching for a loop-hole for God the
Father. For these six little creatures, whom he had sheltered and
cherished, he could not sacrifice.

It was another matter before, when he had not had anything that was
his own. The love for the small and weak, which it has been every
little child's mission to teach big, dangerous people, came over
him and made him doubtful.

He sometimes wanted to hurl the whole nest into the river, for he
thought that they who die without sorrow or sin are the happy ones.
Should he not save them from beasts of prey and cold, from hunger,
and from life's manifold visitations? But just as he thought this,
a sparrow-hawk came swooping down on the nest. Then Hatto seized
the marauder with his left hand, swung him about his head and
hurled him with the strength of wrath out into the stream.

The day came at last when the little birds were ready to fly. One
of the wagtails