Phyllis watched the bird. Suddenly it seemed to drop from the branch. It dived into the water.
There was a great flutter and splash—a struggle. Then the bird in the blue and white uniform perched again on the old branch.
The children watched eagerly.
In the bird's strong bill was a scaly, glittering fish. It wriggled and flopped helplessly, but could not escape.
The bird held the fish firmly in its strong grasp, raised his head and struck the fish three or four sharp knocks against the branch. Then the fish wriggled no longer.
"He can never swallow that big fellow!" cried Jack, forgetting his own fishing. "I have seen kingfishers swallow minnows alive and whole, but that fish is too large for him to manage!"
The bird, however, seemed to think that he could "manage" it. He started to swallow the fish. When it was half-way down his throat it stuck.
With much sputtering and gagging the bird brought the fish up again. But he must have his dinner, and not in the least discouraged, tried again.
He gagged and writhed. The scales and fins stuck in his throat. Up came the fish again.
Four—five times he struggled to swallow the fish. Five times he failed to succeed. Five times the fish-scales glittered again in the sunlight. Such strange wrigglings and twistings the bird made.