"Yes, that is right; and for the present you can learn enough about birds without shooting them yourself, and if you learn your lesson well you will never shoot a song-bird."
"May we see the book you are writing, Uncle Roy, and learn all about the birds out of it?"
"It is written in words too long and difficult for you to understand. Here is a page on the desk—see if you can read it."
Nat stood by the Doctor's chair, but the longer he looked at the page the more puzzled he became, and at last he said, "I think, if you please, I'd rather have a book with only the birds' plain American names." Then he spelled out slowly, "C-y-a-n-o-c-i-t-t-a c-r-i-s-t-a-t-a. Why, that's Latin, but it only means Blue Jay."
"Couldn't you write a little book for us, uncle—just a common little book, all in plain words?" pleaded Dodo. "There's plenty of paper here, and of course the know-how is all in your head; because Olive says you know about every bird that lives in our America—and then you need not put them quite all in our book."
"Bless your innocent heart! How many different kinds of birds do you think there are in 'our America,' my little Yankee?" "More than a hundred, I guess," said Dodo after a long pause.
"Nearly a thousand, my lady!"
"A thousand! I think we couldn't remember so many. Does Olive know about 'nearly a thousand'?"
"No, nor about a quarter of them, Dodo. There are a great many birds that are rare or curious, but are not very interesting to people like you and me," said Olive.
"Suppose you make us a little book about some of the very nicest American birds," put in Nat, who had been looking at the row of stuffed birds in one of the cases, and began to feel a real interest in knowing their names and something about them. "Oh, Uncle Roy! Here's a Robin. See! Dodo, see! I knew it in a minute; it's like meeting a fellow you know;" and Nat pranced about while the Doctor laughed as if he was well pleased.