Harper's Young People, October 5, 1880 Part 2

"Boys," said Grayson, half facing the school, "you all hate a tell-tale, and so do I. Do you think it the fair thing to hold your tongues and make a tell-tale of me?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "MR. MORTON, I WAS THERE."]

Grayson looked at Will Palmer as he spoke, but Will only looked sulky in return; then Grayson looked at Benny Mallow, and Benny was fast making up his mind that he would tell rather than have his friend do it, when up stood Bert Sharp and said,

"Mr. Morton, I was there."

"Bravo, Sharp!" exclaimed the teacher. "Grayson, you may take your seat. Sharp, step to the front. Now, boys, who is man enough to stand beside Sharp?"

"I am," piped Benny Mallow, and he almost ran in his eagerness.

"It's no use," whispered Will Palmer to Ned Johnston, and the two boys went to the front together; then there was a general uprising, and a scramble to see who should not be last.

"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Morton, looking at the culprits and then about the school-room; "I believe you're all here. I'm proud of you, boys. You did a shameful thing in attacking a harmless man, but you have done n.o.bly by confessing. I can not let you off without punishment, but you will suffer far less than you would have done by successfully concealing your fault. None of you are to go out at recess next week. Now go to your seats. Sharp, you may take any unoccupied desk you like. After this I think I can trust you to behave yourself without being watched."

The boys had never before seen Sharp look as he did as he walked to a desk in the back of the room and sat down. As soon as the bell was struck for recess Grayson hurried over to Sharp, and said,

"You helped me out of a terrible sc.r.a.pe, do you know it?"

"I'm glad of it," said Sharp. "And that isn't all; I wish I could think of something else to own up to."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

THREE YOUNG HAWKS.

BY F. M. M.

One bright summer afternoon Bob and I slipped away from the other boys as soon as school was out, and went gayly down the road that led to the big bridge.

We were going birdnesting, and were determined to add something handsome this time to the collection of eggs that we had been gathering since spring.

The bobolinks knew us perfectly well; and you would have thought by the way they rose out of the meadows on each side of the road, and sang as if they were too happy for anything, that they were delighted to see us.

Not a bit of it. Their singing was meant to attract our attention, and give the Mrs. Bobolinks time to glide through the tall gra.s.s, and then rise up so far away from their nests that we would not know where to look for them. We were not after their eggs, however, for we had all the bobolinks' eggs we wanted, carefully blown and laid away in our collection. Sharp as Mr. Bobolink was, we knew all his tricks, and had outwitted him often.

"Where shall we go, Bob?" said I. "We haven't been to see whether that cedar-bird's nest down by the river has any eggs in it yet."

"Oh, bother the cedar-bird! we can attend to his case any day. Let's go through the bushes on the other side of the meadow, and then down to the big bridge. We haven't been to the hill where the old dead tree is for ever so long."

"All right," said I; so we climbed the fence, crossed the meadow, and plunged into the bushes, watching every bush, and listening to every noise. Suddenly we heard a rustling of wings, and then a mournful cry like the wail of a lost kitten.

"Now, Bob, look sharp," I exclaimed; "there's a cat-bird's nest in here, and Fred Sprague asked me to get an egg for him the first time I came across any."

The old bird was fluttering from bush to bush, continually "mewing," and seeming to be in great distress. "There's the nest, Jack," cried Bob, pointing to a ma.s.s of twigs on the top of a tall bush. "You stand underneath and hold your hat to catch the eggs if they fall, and I'll bend down the branch."

The cat-bird was now in a terrible state of mind, and flew around our heads scolding at a great rate. We told her that we only meant to take one egg, but she wasn't a bit satisfied with our explanation.

Down came the bush as Bob carefully bent it, and presently we could see into the nest, where four beautiful eggs were lying. We took one of them out, and let the branch slowly up again; but the cat-bird did not seem at all grateful.

"Let's blow the egg now," said I; "'twill be easier to carry. Have you got a pin with you?"

Bob gave me a pin, with which I made a little hole in each end of the egg. Then putting one end to my lips, I blew gently and steadily, until out came the clear white and then the yellow yolk, leaving the empty sh.e.l.l as light as a feather. Wrapping the egg in cotton, and placing it in a little pasteboard box that I took from my pocket, I felt certain that I could carry it home safely.

We found no more nests in the bushes, and after a while Bob said: "Let's make a bee-line for the bridge, and see if there's anything in that dead tree."

So we came back to the road, crossed the bridge, and went to the foot of a great dead elm-tree that stood on the side hill a little way from the river. It must have been struck by lightning, for it was nothing but a sh.e.l.l, and a long blackened crack reached from the top nearly to the bottom of it.

"I don't believe there's as much as a wasp's nest in there," said I.

"We'll see, anyway," replied Bob. "I'll fire a stone at that hole up by the top, and you stand back and watch if anything comes out."

Bob could throw a stone straighter than any other boy in school. He hit the trunk of the tree close by the hole, and in an instant something darted out with a loud whir, and vanished over the tree-tops.

"Bob," cried I, "that was a hawk."

"Hawks don't build in holes," replied Bob. "Perhaps it was an eagle."

"Eagles don't build in holes either," said I; "but I read yesterday that the pigeon-hawk does build in old dead trees."

"Then that's a pigeon-hawk sure enough," exclaimed Bob. "And there she is, sailing round in a circle, and watching us. What won't the boys say when they see us bringing home a lot of hawks' eggs?"

"That's all very well; but who's going to climb the tree?"

"You are," said Bob. "You know you're the best climber. The hole isn't more than thirty feet from the ground."

I was ready enough to climb, and pulled off my jacket at once; but I could not get my arms around the tree, and the lowest branch was a dozen feet from the ground.

"I tell you what we'll do," exclaimed Bob. "Let's get a fence rail, and lean it against the tree. I'll boost you, and when you get on the end of the rail, you can reach that branch."

We selected the longest and knottiest rail we could find, and leaned it up against the tree. Then Bob boosted me, while he kept his foot at the end of the rail to prevent it from slipping. By this means I managed to reach the lower branch, and seat myself on it.

"All right so far," said I; "but, Bob, the next branch is beyond my reach, and I don't see how in the world I'm going to get any higher."

"Jack," replied Bob, in a solemn tone, "you've got to do it. There's a hawk's nest up there, and we're bound to have it."

After making a good many trials, I found that by putting one hand in the big crack of the tree I could get a hold that would support me, and by-and-by I found myself standing on the upper branch, with one arm around the trunk, and the hole within my reach.

"Now," cried Bob, "don't waste any time, but go for those eggs, or we won't get home before dark."

He looked very cool and comfortable on the ground, while I was standing in a very ticklish place, and was afraid that the dead limb might give way at any moment. I didn't very much like to put my hand into the hole, for how did I know but that there might be a big snake in it? However, it had to be done, so in went my hand. Something hit it a vicious dig, and you can be sure that I pulled it out in a hurry. To tell the truth, I was badly frightened for a minute, and nearly lost my balance. Then it flashed on me that the eggs we were in search of were young birds.

"Bob!" I shouted, "there are young ones!"

"Hooray!" cried Bob. "That's better yet. Throw 'em down, and I'll catch 'em in my hat."