By and by, this insane flight and agitation had so exhausted them all that they were staggering feebly on their tiny legs, and unable to emit more than hoarse squawks as they ran. Then, apparently by chance, as he darted zigzag to and fro, he had run under a corner of the brooder. Instantly ... ah-h-h, the grateful warmth and darkness had suggested rest to his weary soul; with a long murmured “che-e-eep” of utter relief, he had settled down against the wall of the brooder to close his eyes. And each of his pursuers, as they dashed in after him, had seized on the Heaven-sent opportunity for rest after the terrible tension of the struggle for existence, imposed on them by a cruel fate, and had with a sigh and a relieved, whispered twitter, given himself over to sleep and dreams.
At the time when I came up, every chick was sound asleep in the brooder, while outside in the middle of their world, lay the untouched pile of angleworms, bare and open to view under the bright spring sky.
“Can you beat it!” said Mars contemptuously.
He turned away from such unimaginable imbecility to a new idea, “Say, kids!” he bellowed, although they were all within touching distance of him, “let's be cops and robbers!”
They flared up like tinder to a spark, “All right! I’ll be Chief of Police!”
“I’ll be a detective!”
“I’ll be the robber captain ... cave’s under the hay, as usual.”
“No, I wanted to be robber captain!”
“No, me, me!”