He came with
an occasional "clicker-a-clicker"--then, when near her, he sprung
fifty feet in the air and dashed down, screaming his slogan without
interruption, darting zigzag with the most surprising evolutions and
turns--this way, that way, sideways and downward, dealing the
deadliest blows right and left at an imaginary foe, then soared, and
did it all over again two or three times, just to show how far he was
from being tired, and how much better he could have done it had it
been necessary. Then with a final swoop and a volley of "clickers" he
dashed into the bush to receive the congratulations of the one for
whom it all was meant and the only spectator for whose opinion he
cared in the least.
[Illustration: "Clicker-a-clicker!' he shrieked ... and down like a
dart."]
"Now, ain't that great," said Sam, with evident sincerity and
pleasure. His voice startled Yan and brought him back. He had been
wholly lost in silent admiring wonder of the dauntless little
Kingbird.
A Vesper Sparrow ran along the road before them, flitting a few
feet ahead each time they overtook it and showing the white outer
tail-feathers as it flew.
"A little Graybird," remarked Sam.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133