When the winter came there were a great many quail about our barn. Smiling Bill Smith, who worked for us,—Old Bill Smiley some folks called him, on account of the broad grin he always wore,—said to me:—
"Them whales, Ben, pretty near bother the life out of me. They creep in through the cracks and crannies and eat the grain. If I go over by the grain chest, the first thing I know, there's a whir, and a cloud of them darts up in front of my face. Sometimes it makes my heart come right up in my mouth. I wish there wasn't a whale round the place."
"Quails, Bill. What makes you call them whales?"
"Whales I heard them called when I was a boy, and whales they are to me."
CATCHING QUAIL
"Perhaps you think it was one of these whales that swallowed Jonah?"
"I never did think so, Benny. But if he did, it was a miracle, sure enough."
Davy helped me make a figure-4 trap to catch them. One Saturday morning I met Edmund down at John Buckman's store, trading some butter and eggs for tea and sugar.
"Come up to the house, Edmund. I've got a figure-4 trap; and we'll catch some quail."