Jack, as they debouched upon the road,
"that I stuck my proclamations upon. We had very little to think of in
those days."

As the party drew near Falcon's Nest, the dogs approached and welcomed
them with the usual canine demonstrations of joy.

"I have half a mind to carry off Toby," said Fritz; "but I fear Mary
would miss him."

Externally all appeared tranquil at Falcon's Nest; this satisfied the
young men that their mother had succeeded in reaching home, at least,
in safety; a light streaming through the window of Becker's dwelling,
however, showed that the family had not yet retired for the night.

"If they only knew we were so near them!" remarked Jack.

The entire party then sat down upon a rustic bench, shrouded with
flowering orchis and Spanish jasmine.

"How often, on returning from the fields or the chase, we have seen
our mother at work on this very seat," observed Fritz.

"Aye," added Jack; "once I observed she had fallen asleep whilst
knitting stockings. I advanced on tip-toe, removed gently her knitting
apparatus, stockings, and all, and placed on her lap some ortolans
that I had caught and strangled; but I first plucked one of them, and
scattered the feathers all about, and then retreated into a thicket to
watch the _denouement_ of my scheme. She awoke, put down her hand to
take up a stocking, and laid hold of a bird. She stared, rubbed her
eyes, stared again, looked about, and could find nothing but the
ortolan feathers. I then ran forward and embraced her, looking as if I
had just come from unearthing turnips. 'Well, I declare,' she said
with a bewildered air, 'I could have sworn that I was knitting just
now, and here I find myself plucking ortolans; and what is more, I
have not the slightest idea where, in all the world, the birds have
come from!' Of course, I looked as innocent as possible; so that the
more she stared and reflected, the less she could make the matter out.
At last, she went on plucking the birds, and when this was done she
stuck them on the spit. When the ortolans were roasted and ready to be
served up, I went into the kitchen, carried them off, and put my
mother's knitting apparatus on the spit. Imagine her surprise when she
beheld her worsted and stockings at the fire, knowing, at the same
time, that four hungry stomachs were waiting for their dinners! At
last, fearing that she was going to ascribe the metamorphosis to some
hallucination of her own, I went up to her, threw m