XIV
The Quarrel
"Say, Yan, I saw a Blood-Robin this morning."
"That's a new one," said Yan, in a tone of doubt.
"Well, it's the purtiest bird in the country."
"What? A Humming-bird?"
"Na-aw-w-w. They ain't purty, only small."
"Well, that shows what you know," retorted Yan, "'for these exquisite
winged gems are at once the most diminutive and brilliantly coloured
of the whole feathered race.'" This phrase Yan had read some where and
his overapt memory had seized on it.
"Pshaw!" said Sam. "Sounds like a book, but I'll bet I seen hundreds
of Hummin'-birds round the Trumpet-vine and Bee-balm in the garden,
an' they weren't a millionth part as purty as this. Why, it's just as
red as blood, shines like fire and has black wings. The old Witch says
the Indians call it a War-bird 'cause when it flew along the trail
there was sure going to be war, which is like enough, fur they wuz at
it all the hull time."
"Oh, I know," said Yan. "A Scarlet Tanager. Where did you see it?"
"Why, it came from the trees, then alighted on the highest pole of the
teepee."
"Hope there isn't going to be any war there, Sam. I wish I had one to
stuff."
"Tried to get him for you, sonny, spite of the Rules.
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