“Then what would you say to soothe my children?” sighed the unhappy bird.
“Ga! ga! ga! ga!” replied the crow, but Ganodjodjo cried in terror that his harsh hoarse voice was far too hoarse for her little ones, so, the crow croaked and strode on.
Winging her way to the top of a dead tree Ganodjodjo sang again her plaintive song. There was a whirr of wings and a bluejay alighted on the branch beside her.
“I will help you gladly,” said he.
“Well,” said the hapless Ganodjodjo shyly, for she was impressed with the gay bird at her side, “what would you say to my children?”
“In my softest voice I would say, “Di’´, di’´, di’´, di’´, di’´, di’´, di’´, skil´lŭm, skil´lŭm!”
The sharp shrill cry of the bluejay made Ganodjodjo’s ears ache and fluttering to the ground half fainting she fell in a mouldering pile of leaves. Plaintively she sang her song again. The leaves on the ground a distance away began to tremble and rustle and then there was a faint sound of “tci´-wii‘, tci´-wii‘!” The disconsolate bird stopped short, and darting to the spot found her own lost mate.
“I have been stunned and bruised,” he said, “and only awoke when you called.”
She plucked him a red berry for medicine and then together they flew to their nest, he with unsteady wings but she in strong and happy flight.