“We have not any thing to feed him with. Perhaps I can catch a fly, or a grasshopper.”
“O, that will not do,” said Rollo; “you might as well kill him as kill a grasshopper.”
Jonas could not reply to this, and they concluded to carry nest and all carefully to the mill, and show it to Rollo’s father there. But how to carry it was the difficulty. If either of them undertook to hold it in one hand, he was afraid the bird might be jolted out; and neither of them had but one hand to spare, for Rollo must have one hand to hold on with, and Jonas one to drive. At last Jonas took off his cap, and placed it bottom upwards on the saddle before him, and put the nest, with the bird in it, in that, and then drove carefully along. The road grew much smoother and better after they passed the brook; and, after going on a short distance farther, they came in sight of the mill.
They had been detained so long that the chaises had reached the mill before, them; and the party in the chaises were looking out down the path where they expected the boys were to come out, watching for them with considerable interest:
“There they come at last,” said Lucy, as she perceived a movement among the bushes, and saw Old Trumpeter’s white head coming forward.
“Yes,” said Rollo’s mother, “but they have met with some accident. Jonas has lost his cap.”
By this time the boys had emerged from the bushes, and were coming along the path slowly, Jonas bareheaded, and Rollo holding on carefully. Lucy saw that Jonas was holding something before him, on the saddle, and wondered what it was. Rollo’s mother said she was afraid they had got hurt.
As soon as they came within hearing Rollo heard his father’s voice calling out to him,
“Rollo, what is the matter? Have you got into any difficulty?”
“Yes, sir,” said Rollo; “we had some difficulty; and I should be sorry I did not take your advice, only then we should not have found this little bird.”