Once during the evening the leader was worried for a moment. In a front seat he had spied an old frog and he knew his bass woods did not go low enough to imitate the frog song. So when an usher came up and whispered in his ear that the frog was stone deaf and would not know it if his call were omitted, he was very much relieved. Happily the old fellow was the only frog present.
The favorite number proved to be the brown thrasher’s song. It was long enough to make a piece, and seemed just suited to xylophones. Since Snythergen wore at least twelve of these instruments in his skirt of mail, there were enough different keys to provide soprano, alto, tenor and bass. The audience was much stirred by the wonderful performance, and the leader as a compliment to the brown thrashers directed the ushers to conduct all of them present to a stage limb just beneath him. They were lined up in a row and firefly foot-lights shone upon a long line of feathery breasts in front and straight slender tails behind.
It was inspiring to hear this mighty chorus accompanied by full orchestra, in one of the most beautiful of bird songs. No wonder birds and animals clapped until their claws and paws ached, and when the concert was over, refused to go home until the leader announced another performance next week.
“Well, at last,” said Snythergen, when all had left, “I can have a moment’s rest. There won’t be another concert if I can help it—and I think I can!”
