Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1883-11-02

and flew away. But she flew in strange
manner, turning and tumbling over and
over again in the air, and then falling to
| the ground MS il she had been wounded.
Tresor made for her MS fast M possible
n thing he never did when the bird flew
in its usual manner.
MY father could not take aim for fear
of hitting the dog Presently Trcsor
made sudden dash, and, before We Knew
it, he had seized the quail and brought
her to my father. My father took the
bird from him and laid it on its back on
the palm of his hand. | ran up to him.
whats the matter?' l cried I; sis
she wounded?"
NO. replied my father "shc must,
however, have her nest with her little
ones close by. She acted MS if she were
wounded SO that the dog might think he
could catch her easily"
"Why did she do SOP"
"1n order 10 divert the dogs attention
from her little ones after which, if she
had succeeded, she would have flown
away. But this time she missed her little
game. and Trcsor has caught her"
"Thcn she is not hit ?" | inquired
again.
"No-but she won't liyc--Trcsor must
have injured her with his teeth"
| stepped nearer to have II better look
Mt the quail. She rested motionlcss on
the palm of my fathers hand her head
was dropping and her black eyes looked
at me sideways. All at once n feeling of
pity overcame me. 1t seemed to me MS if
the poor little bird regarded me and
thought, "Why must | die? Why ?
Have L not done my duty l tried to
save my little ones, to draw the dogs at
tention away from them, and here | am a
captive ! All, me Poor me This is
not just; no, no, it is not just T.
Papa, perhaps she will not die" |
cried, trying to caress the little birds
head.
My father answered:
"Shell die. Look In another mo-
ment, and her legs will stiflen, her body
will tremble, and her eyes will close
Indeed, that's what did happen before
long. When her eyes had closed 1 began
to cry.
"Wcll, what's the matter 2" my father
exclaimed almost laughingly.
81 pity her" | replied. 'She did her
duty and she has been killed. 1t is not
lust y
"She wanted to play deceitful game, >
my father answered, "but Tresor was too
smart for her"
bad dogl' thought cat that moment
l even thought my father himself was not
good). There was nothing deceitful in
her action. 1t was the love for her young
that prompted her to do it. Because she
was forced to dissemble in order to save
her brood it does not follow that Tresor
had to seize her.
My father wanted to put the quail in
his game bag, but I begged him to give
her to me. placed her in my two hands
and warmed her with my breath, hoping
to bring her back to life again but she
did not stir.
You waste your time" said my father.
"1ou cant revive her. Don't you see
how her head is drooping?'
| tendcrly raised her head by the bill,
but as soon rs let go it would fall brck.
''Do You pity her so much ?" asked my
father again.
"Who will feed her young ~ replied.
My father looked at me attentively.
Don't worry about that" he said !;
"the male bird, the father will feed them.
But listen There is Tresor pointing
again. Perhaps it's the nest 1t is.
Il In fact, among the stalks of some tall
grass two feet in front OF Trcsor's snout,
| perceived four little quails nestled close
together and with outstretchcd nccks
They breathcd 80 quickly l thought they
were trembling all over. They had al
ready little feathers, only their tails were
still very short.
Papa papa!" cried, "call back the
dog he'll kill them too p
My father recalled Trcsor, ard prepared
to sit down little way off under bush
to cat some lunch. / remained close by
the nest and refused to eat. pulled
from my pocket white handkerchief
upon which / placed the quail. "Look,
poor orphaned little ones There's your
mother She las sacrificed herself for
lyon. The young birds seemed to breathe
more rapidly when said it, ana their
little bodies seemed to tremblo still more
violently.
L went to where my father sat.
"Wlll you make me present of this
quail % 1 asked.
IF 1t gives you any pleasure, of course
But what are you going to do with her q
!, II am going to bury her."
"Bury her?"
"Ies, there right close to the nest.
Give me your knife, so can dig her lit
you expect the young to go and pray
en- the grave, l suppose ?" suggested my
father is establishment.
"No,' | replied "but the thought
pleases me. She belongs there, close to
her nest"
| Without adding another word my faith
er looked for his knife and handed it to
me. set to work at once to Dig the little
hole. pressed kiss upon my quails
breast, and placed hergently in her grave,
and then filed it with earth. | cut two
sticks, and after removing the bark
made cross by tying them together with
some dry blades of grass and this
placed upon the grave.
We started soon afterwards to 60 home.
AT each step l turned to look back. The
cross was white, and could see it far
off.
That night had dream. 1t seemed
to me was in heaven, and there. perch
ed upon,a tiny little cloud, saw my
quall-the very same quail had buried
IN the morning, only she was all white,
IKE the cross on her grave. Around her
mead halo OF gold spread its lustre no
doubt, thought, reward for what she
had suffered for the sake of her children.
Five or six days after 1 returned in
company with my father to the grave
The cross had become little yellow, but
had remained in its place. The nest.
however, was empty not n trace of the
little ones was left. My father assured
me that the male bird had carried them
elsewhere. Indeed, at that very moment,
only few steps from where we stood. the
little male flew out of n bush, and my
father forebore at him, and II said to
myself, NO, no papa is not bad |"
strange to say, from that day my love
Tor bunting left Inc completely, and
never even thought of the gun which nv
father had promised me. Later. il is
true, when | became man, | took to
hunting too, but | never wos n trne