e is in there. I took the fish to
her. She can fish quite as well as I, but our eggs are just hatching
and she dare not leave them."

"That a bird's nest?" cried Phyllis. "Who made it?"

"Mrs. Kingfisher and I did," was the reply. "We found this fine steep
bank when we came from the south in March.

"I began the nest myself. I held myself still in the air before the
bank just as I did when I first noticed you. Then I drove my beak into
the soft bank with quick plunges. How the clay rattled and rolled and
splashed into the water below!

"It was but a very short time before I had a foothold on the bank.
Mrs. Kingfisher and I worked very quickly. Soon we dug ourselves out
of sight."

"But how do you dig--"

"Oh, just look at my bill, Phyllis. With it I loosen the earth. With
my feet I scratch the dirt out in a perfect shower behind me. Our
tunnel is so narrow that we could not turn around in it."

"How deep is it?" asked the little girl, pushing back her big hat and
peering in.

The kingfisher did not seem to hear her. He just went on with his
story.

"Perhaps a little less than two feet from the outside we made a turn to
the right. After that we were obliged to bring the earth out in our
beaks.

"Two could not work at once. While I worked at the tunnel Mrs.
Kingfisher fished. While she worked, I fished. At last the tunnel was
eight feet long.

"'That is a very safe distance,' said Mrs. Kingfisher to me. 'Let us
dig no more, but make our nest here at the end of the tunnel.'

"We built a wonderful nest," the bird went on, "a fine prickly nest for
our little ones. We did not line it with feathers and moss. We
carefully arranged a pile of fish-bones and scales at the farthest end
of the tunnel. On these bones and scales my wife laid six white eggs.
Already four little baby kingfishers have pecked their way out of the
white shells. The others will be out soon.

"I must be off about my fishing. Mrs. Kingfisher and I will both be
very busy now catching minnows for those blue babies of ours."

With another chuckle and rattle the kingfisher flew away to his fishing
station over the pond.

Phyllis picked up her basket of berries and returned to the spot where
Jack still sat patiently holding his pole.

"Oh, Jack--" Phyllis began.

"Sh-h-h-h!" whispered Jack. "You promised not to talk. You'll scare
the fish away. Girls always talk."

"I'm sorry," said Phyllis. "How many have you no