“Gone! gone!” snorted the disappointed bird, hungry and cross, “and hard work I shall have to dig them out.”
“Too fast, stop them!” excitedly shrieked the brown owl, who was watching some caterpillars waddling off as quickly as they could.
White Heron.
“What is the good of saying that?” asked the Tui, “I shan’t imitate you anymore. It is not likely the caterpillars, if they heard you, would stop to be eaten to please you. I’m off to the bush, near the stream,” continued the Tui, “where the white heron[13] is bringing up her aristocratic family in her nest in the tree-fern, I shall get some conversation worth listening to with her, for she’s a lady of education, and does not mix with every one!” and the Tui flew off.
“I say, old fellow,” called out Hal to the owl, “that was rather hard on you. I’d change my tune if I were you, I think.”
The owl put his brown head on one side, looked very wise for a moment, then shouted out at the top of his shrill voice, “More pork! more pork!”
“I’m afraid I can’t oblige you,” laughed Hal, “but if you’ll go farther into the bush you might tackle a few wild pigs if you like.”
“I expect he means ‘more mice,’” said little Cis; “perhaps he’s getting old, poor thing!”