The loud shout and the flying up of the cap had the effect of starting a little flock of birds from the nearest trees, and, obeying the instinct of the moment, Uncle Dick raised his gun and fired—two barrels, each of which laid low one of the birds, which dropped in different directions.
I was off after one of them directly, and, in utter disregard of Uncle Dick’s warning shout, the boy was off after the other, but took some time to find it in the dense growth amongst which it had fallen.
“A beautiful little finch, uncle,” I said, as I brought back my prize.
“Lovely!” he cried. “I never saw one like this before. It’s a pity I did not stop that fellow. He will have spoiled the other.”
But he was wrong, for the boy was just then coming from among the low bushes, carefully bearing the second bird upon the top of his cap, which he held between his hands like a tray.
“Is he all right, sir?” said the bearer excitedly. “I picked him up by his neb and never touched his feathers.”
“Yes, in capital order,” said Uncle Dick. “Come, you’ve begun well!”
The boy’s eyes flashed with pleasure, and taking advantage of Uncle Dick being busy over the birds, he turned to me.
“Then we may stop with you, Master Nat?” he whispered.
“I suppose so, but you must wait and see what my uncle says. I say, though,” I cried, “will you keep your face clean if you’re allowed to stay?”