king about his mouth. "Wuff-wuff," he said, "that's better."

"Bravo!" chorused the birds, in a state of high delight; "well done,
Boxer!"

"Ha-ha-ha; phut-phut-phut--wizzle-wizzle," said the starling off the top
of the wall.

"Wizzle-wizzle, indeed," said Boxer grumpily; "why don't you come down,
old sharp-bill, and pull this thorn out of my nose?"

"'Tisn't safe," said the starling.

"Get out," said Boxer; "why, what do you mean?"

"You'd get hold of my tail, perhaps," said Specklems.

"Ha-ha-ha," laughed all the birds; "that's capital, so he would."

"No, no; honour bright," said Boxer. "You never knew me cheat; ask
Robin, there."

Whereupon the robin came forward in a new red waistcoat, blew his nose
very loudly, and then said:--

"Gentlemen all, I could, would, should, and always have trusted my
person freely with my friend--if he will allow me to call him so,"--here
the robin grew quite pathetic, and said that often and often he had been
indebted to his friend for a sumptuous repast, or for a draught of water
when all around was ice; he assured them they might put the greatest
trust in Boxer's honour.

Whereupon Boxer laid himself in the path, and the birds dropped down one
at a time, some on the beds, some on the gooseberry or currant bushes,
and formed quite a cluster round the great, rough, hairy fellow, for
they felt perfectly safe after what the robin had said.

First of all, the starling examined the wound with great care, and said,
"The thorn is sticking in it."

"Well, I knew that," said Boxer; "pull it out."

He spoke so sharply that every one jumped, and appeared as if about to
fly off; but as the dog lay quite still, Specklems laid hold of the
thorn, and gave a tug at it that made Boxer whine; but he did not get it
out, so tried again.

"Some one come and lend a hand here," said the starling; and then two or
three birds, one after another, joined wings and pulled away with a
hearty "Yo, ho," until all at once out came the thorn, and down fell the
haulers all in a heap upon the ground, where they fluttered and
scrambled about, for their legs and wings had got so mixed up together
that there was no telling which was which; and the only wonder was that
the thrush did not come out of the scramble with the starling's wings,
and the blackbird with somebody else's tail. However, at last they were
all right again, and Boxer declared he was so deeply indebted to the
birds that he must ask t