rself, swift of
movement, trilling with song.

"It was a mean thing to do," Hertha cried indignantly as she watched the
warbler flutter and fall to the ground again. "Why couldn't they let it
stay in the tree top? I suppose the boys think it's fun to bring it down
with a stone."

"Sure," said Bob cheerfully.

"Don't you do it," his companion commanded. "Can't you see how it hurts?
It's crippled through no fault of its own."

"What do you think'll happen?" Bob asked, a little anxiously. Hertha's
tone was making an impression on him.

"I'm afraid it will die. Any animal can seize it now."

"I tell you what." Bob's face brightened. "I'll catch it and put it in
our old canary cage. Our bird's dead now, and we can feed this and hear
it sing."

He crouched to make a sudden spring, but Hertha held him back. "Don't!"
she said.

"Why not?" Bob asked, straightening up.

The girl found it hard to give her answer. "See how it's trying to get
away," she said at last. "I believe it would rather live a few hours
free, in the sunshine, than to be caged for life."

"I'll give it some crumbs, anyway," said Bob, and, strewing bread along
the path, went back to his more engrossing ducks.

The bird of the tree tops refused the bread of grain and, making a
tremendous effort, rose to the birch tree again and moved among the
leaves, its black head bobbing about hunting for insects, its free wing
fluttering with pleasure. "What a comfort it is," Hertha thought to
herself, "that it lives only in to-day."

Becoming weary of his ducks, Bob joined his companion where she sat on
the grass, and leaning up against her asked to hear about
Tom-of-the-Woods. Tom was a wonderful boy who lived in the forest,
eating roots and fruit, for he would not kill any living creature. The
berries that he found and the oranges that he plucked from the trees
were finer than any other oranges and berries in the world. Tom made his
house out of palm leaves tied together and set up on shoots of bamboo.
He did not use it much, however, for at night he loved to sit under the
stars listening to the screech owls and the toads and the little
four-footed creatures that came out of their hiding-places when the sun
went down. It was then that he talked with the rabbits and the great
white owl, the wisest bird in the world. Tom went to the city and
purchased a top that he could spin so fast on the sidewalk that it
disappeared. How he got it back he never told, but