er strong claws. "You must attend to
what I say, for you are very ignorant little things, and if you are
not careful to mind what I say you may be caught up by a hawk at any
moment. So, listen: when I say 'Tuk,' you must hide yourselves
immediately; don't try to run away, but just get under a rock, or even
a leaf, or just flatten yourselves upon the ground, if you can't do
better; you are so nearly the color of the ground that a boy will
never see you, and you can even escape a hawk's keen eye."

After a while, mother and brood left the alder thicket, and, as the
reapers were now in a distant part of the field. Mrs. Bob led them all
to a sunny spot where they might pick upon the fallen grains and
wallow in the dry, hot sand. It was very nice to do this, and they
were having a charming time, when suddenly voices were heard, and at
once two boys were upon them. But not so much as one little brown head
or one little pink toe was visible; the sign had been given, and now
only a poor, wounded Bob White lay in the path before them. "She's
dead," said one of the boys. "No, she ain't, her wing's broke," cried
the other, as he made a dive at her. But somehow, Mrs. Bob continued
to flop the broken wing, and to elude them. Another futile dive, and
the two tin buckets containing the reapers' dinners were thrown down
and forgotten in the keen interest of chasing the wounded Bob White,
who managed to flop and flutter just beyond their reach until she had
led them quite across the field,--then, with a whirr, she bounded
into the air and safely perched herself upon a distant tree. The
astonished small boys gazed blankly after her, wiped their hot faces
upon their sleeves, and turned, reluctantly, to pick up their buckets.
As they went along, hot and crestfallen, one of them suddenly
exclaimed: "She's got young ones hid yonder, I bet," and with that
they set off at a run. Mrs. Bob White, who knew boy-nature well,
craned her neck to watch, and fluttered nearer. Then Bob White came,
and both continued to watch with anxiously beating hearts, for those
little boys were evidently bent upon mischief. Would the poor little
puff-balls outwit them? One little piping cry, one brown head raised,
and all would be lost. But, as they watched, their fears began to
subside. The boys are again wiping their hot faces, they look
discouraged, they have evidently found nothing; yes, certainly not,
for, see, they are picking up their buckets, and now they ar