“So it is,” said Croly. “Hi there, Polly! show yourself.”
“Go ’way!” screamed the harsh voice.
“Come down, Polly; we won’t hurt you,” said Harold.
“Polly’s hungry; Polly wants a cracker,” responded the harsh voice.
“Come down, and if you are the good bird you seem, you shall have a cracker and a cup of coffee,” he promised; but the only reply was a sound as of the fluttering and flapping of wings that seemed to leave the tree and go farther away till lost in the distance.
“Gone!” said Croly; “and I did not catch so much as a glimpse of her. Did anybody else?”
“And you haven’t found the bugler either,” remarked Mary Keith.
“No,” laughed Calhoun Conly, sitting beside her, “they are not very successful hunters.”
“Do you think you could do better, Cal?” asked Herbert, as he and his two companions came leisurely up the steps into the veranda.