I would strain my ears at this point to hear if the male blackbird was moved at all by these taunts, but the only sound I could ever detect coming from his neighbourhood was that of palpably exaggerated snoring.
By this time the whole glade would be awake, expressing views concerning that corncrake that would have wounded a less callous nature.
“Blow me tight, Bill,” some vulgar little hedge-sparrow would chirp out, in the midst of the hubbub, “if I don’t believe the gent thinks ’e’s a-singing.”
“’Tain’t ’is fault,” Bill would reply, with mock sympathy. “Somebody’s put a penny in the slot, and ’e can’t stop ’isself.”
Irritated by the laugh that this would call forth from the younger birds, the corncrake would exert himself to be more objectionable than ever, and, as a means to this end, would commence giving his marvellous imitation of the sharpening of a rusty saw by a steel file.
But at this an old crow, not to be trifled with, would cry out angrily:—
“Stop that, now. If I come down to you I’ll peck your cranky head off, I will.”
And then would follow silence for a quarter of an hour, after which the whole thing would begin again.
CHAPTER V
Brown and MacShaughnassy came down together on the Saturday afternoon; and, as soon as they had dried themselves, and had had some tea, we settled down to work.