"Don't say that, old bird!" protested Clarence huskily. "We need you too badly! No; you're going to live and be the leader of this barnyard."
The drake shook his head feebly.
"Yes, indeed! You're going to have every honor we can give you! Why, man roast me!—you're the bravest bird that ever was! You've got the real stuffing in you! When I think of the way you showed us as a bunch of yellow-legged white-feathers, I realize I'm not fit to scratch worms for you.—And so here, before everybody, I resign my job as leader right now."
"No, Clarence; they depend on you. And I must pass on."
The rooster turned away to hide his emotion,—he was crying like a chick.
"Ah, do not leave us!" pleaded a sweet-faced adolescent. "All of us young fowls look to you for guidance."
Eustace smiled with peaceful tenderness.
"Bless you! You are all my children!"
At which a hen who had the unfortunate habit of taking things literally, exclaimed:
"What's that?"