"Can I open the door?" asked Dodo.
"Here is the dollar—now go, all together," said the Doctor, putting his hands over his ears; "but if you make so much noise the birds in the river woods will mistake your kind intentions and think you are a family of wildcats."
In less than half an hour the party returned, Nat carrying the cage, which was only a box with a bit of wire netting over the front.
"No wonder poor Mrs. Cardinal has a cough, living in this dirty box," said Olive. "See, father, only one perch—and I don't believe the poor things have ever had a bath given them."
"That is the saddest part of caging wild birds," said the Doctor. "Not one person in fifty is willing to give them the care they need. Put the cage under those bushes, Nat.
"I began by asking, Where do we find this bird? Living in Florida in sunshine, among the shady redwoods of Kentucky, and in all the bitterness of our northern winters. He varies his habits to suit his surroundings, and roves about after the nesting season; in mild climates he sings for six months of the year—from March until August. But one of the strangest things about him is that he wanders most when the trees are bare and he can be so easily seen that hundreds of his kind are shot for their gay feathers, or trapped to sell alive for cage birds. When snow is on the ground he is very conspicuous."
"Why doesn't he get into evergreens or cedar bushes?" asked Rap.
"He does when he can and often sings when so hidden; but he is not a very quick-witted bird and seems to move awkwardly, as if his topknot were as heavy as a drum major's bearskin.
"But no one can find fault with his song; it first rings out loud like a shout, then ends as clearly as the bubbling of the stream near which he likes best to live—'Cheo-cheo-chehoo-cheo-qr-qr-qrr-r-r.'"
"Isn't it time to let them out?" whispered Dodo. "Mrs. Cardinal is coughing again dreadfully!"