"I know, but wait; to-morrow we go at sunrise, quick, to the bird place," spoke Tony.
As soon as they neared the bird island the next morning they knew some one had broken through the jungles, for the vines were torn aside and the birds, still disturbed, were circling and screaming wildly about the pond. The first thing they looked for was the egret's nest. Perched upon the edge of the nest were the baby egrets alone, screaming shrilly, "Kek, kek, kek," calling vainly now for their parents, and to be fed; they wanted their breakfast.
Tony and Papita waited some time, but in vain; the father and mother egret did not come back to the nest.
"They don't come back ever, the big angel birds; but we go and look for them, Papita. You see, the little ones are so hungry; they die if we don't feed them." The children paddled up and down the swamp, searching everywhere, and finally found the old egrets—all that the plume hunters had left—just the two snowy bodies, from which the beautiful, long aigrette plumes had been roughly torn.
"Oh, oh, what can we do? The little ones wait; they so hungry," spoke Papita, her eyes full of tears.
"Papita, I tell you what—we, you and I, we be father and mother now to these little angel birds. We bring the little fish, until they be large enough to get for themselves. But first, we hide them, these little ones."
"Oh, yes, yes, so no hunters find them, Tony," replied Papita, seizing her paddle eagerly.
Back the children went to the cypress tree, where the little egrets had been left alone to starve, and after much hard work, between them, they finally took the birds in the dug-out to the little, lonely island, where they placed them in an abandoned heron's nest, over which they managed to build a rude sort of cage of long bamboos to keep the birds from falling out. They had an old fishing net in the boat, and succeeded in scooping up enough fish from the edges of the pond to keep the little egrets from starving. The little things were so very hungry that they fed readily, showing no fear, but setting up a constant worrying "Kek, kek, kek" for more. Finally it was time to go home, but the children visited the young egrets each day faithfully. After feeding them, they would leave a supply of fish on the edge of the nest. Soon the young egrets had grown accustomed to the children, and became so tame that they would allow their heads to be gently scratched by Papita. One of the birds, the largest of the brood, would perch upon Tony's shoulder sometimes, to his great joy. This was a very happy time for the children, and they never wearied of watching their pets grow. The bamboo cage was finally taken away, and the egrets were able to fish for themselves. By early November they were almost full grown and Tony and Papita knew that they would not stay upon the island much longer, for already many of the other water-fowl had migrated to other and warmer climes.
One night a light frost visited the swamp, and the next morning the children came to the island, perhaps for the last time. They saw that the egrets were showing much excitement, flying back and then forth and screaming back to each other wildly, circling low over the children's heads, then darting up again, curving their long, graceful necks.
"Look, Papita! They like to tell us something—hear, they try to speak; they don't hear me even when I call; see." Vainly Tony tried to call the egrets to him. Usually, the large bird would come to him willingly enough, but now, as they watched the big fellow, he began to rise straight into the air, mounting ever higher and higher, and they could hear him calling back for the others to follow. Then, with wide-spread wings, the others mounted into the air, and then they all sailed off together to find the warm, safe shelter of another retreat, farther south. Tony and Papita, away down below them in the swamp, stood hand in hand and watched them, until they were lost to sight.