There was one bird that even Sam’s bright eyes did not see. He had a timid look, as if he could not make friends so easily as the social chickadees. He crept along a large tree that grew near the spot where the birds and squirrels were feeding, and creeping in the same cautious manner on the under side of a large bough that stretched out toward the spot, hung head downward, watching intently what went on beneath him. None of the birds took the slightest notice of him, but his quick eyes glanced at them all, and finally rested on the face of the blind boy, who patiently listened to the explanations of the kind friend who loaned him the use of his eyes.
This shy little bird who watched the two boys so narrowly, was the nuthatch. As soon as the sleigh had driven away, the nuthatch came down from the tree, creeping along the trunk, head downward, and seized upon the fine kernel of a nut a squirrel was eating.
The chickadees were loudly singing the praises of the visitors who had brought them such a delicious treat. Even the blue jays, who were usually very chary of their praise, had a pleasant word for their friend Sam, who so often brought them food.
“There was a strange boy with him,” cawed an old crow. “Who knows anything about him?”
“He was not a seeing child,” chirped the nuthatch. “He could not see the blue sky, nor the trees, nor any of us. Who can he be?”
“We know all about him,” twittered the sparrows. “It is the blind boy who lives in the engine-house. Fire-Jack saved his life; we see him very often.”
Then an incessant twittering arose from the sparrows, who were in such a hurry to tell all they knew that they all talked at once.