“You’re setting an example of pernicious activity,” said Jack.
“I won’t go far,” Cora assured him.
She strolled about for a little while, picking an occasional flower and observing with interest the nicks made in the trees by the woodchoppers. The woods closed around her and shut her out of sight of the others. But she gave no thought to this, for she knew that they could locate her by a call, even though she was invisible.
From the bushes in front of her, a mother bird darted out and ran along the ground, twittering sharply as though in pain or alarm. Cora gazed at her, and noticed that her wing was trailing as though broken.
Her sympathies were aroused in an instant.
“Poor little thing,” she murmured to herself. “I wonder if I can’t catch her and perhaps help set that wing.”
She followed the bird for some distance, but it managed to keep just a little out of reach of her outstretched hand.
So much of design appeared in this that at last the truth dawned upon Cora, and she laughed outright.
“You little fibber!” she exclaimed. “You haven’t any broken wing at all. You’re just trying to draw me away from your nest, so that I sha’n’t find your babies.”
To make sure that her guess was correct, she followed the bird a little farther. Then the little creature seemed to realize that she had accomplished her object, and rising from the ground, she soared swiftly away.