“Now see here,” said the White Cock, as he lowered his head and looked the Shanghai Cock squarely in the eyes, “you stop talking in this way! You gave the first warning and you know it. I only repeated the call.”
“I did not,” retorted the Shanghai Cock, as he lowered his head and ruffled his feathers. “You gave the warning and I repeated it.”
“He did not,” interrupted the Brown Hen. “I stood right beside him, and I know he did not give the first call.”
“Well,” said the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen, “I was standing close to the Shanghai Cock, and I know that he did not give the first call.” (Her Chickens were now so large that they did not need her, and she had begun running with her old friends.)
Then arose a great chatter and quarrel in the pen. Part of the Hens thought that the White Cock gave the first warning, and part of them thought that the Shanghai Cock did. Everybody was out of patience with somebody else, and all were scolding and finding fault until they really had to stop for breath. It was when they stopped that the Speckled Hen spoke for the first time. She had never been known to quarrel, and she was good-natured now.
“I believe it was the White Plymouth Rock Cock in the other yard,” said she. “Why didn’t we think of that before?”
“Of course!” said all the fowls together. “It was certainly the White Plymouth Rock Cock in the other yard.” Then they laughed and spoke pleasantly to each other as they began to settle themselves for the night. “We might as well go to roost now,” they said, “even if it is a bit early. All that running and talking was very tiring.”
But it was not the White Plymouth Rock Cock who had said “Er-ru-u-u-u-u!” He and his Hens had run into their pen at the same time, and had been shut in. Only the Man and the Little Girls knew who it really was, and they never told the poultry.
