"Bird up there," briefly answered the nearest bystander.
"She'll never get it," said another.
"Oh, now he's going away," cried the little girl in despair.
The contrast between her anxiety and the amusement of the others was marked. Every time she called to the bird it flitted to another limb, and every time the bird flitted she wrung her hands and cried. An empty cage upon a lawn bench told the story.
"What's the matter?" said Pee-wee, going to the child and seeking his information first-hand.
"Oh, I'll never get him," she sobbed. "He'll fly away in a minute and I'll never see him again."
Pee-wee looked up into the branches and after some difficulty succeeded in locating a little bird somewhat smaller than a robin and as green as the foliage amid which it was so heedlessly disporting.
"I see him," said Pee-wee. "Gee, don't you cry; we'll get him some way. We're scouts, we are, and we'll get him for you."
His reassuring words did not seem to comfort the girl. "Oh, there he goes!" she cried. "Now he's going to fly away!"
He did not fly away but merely flew to another limb and began to preen himself. For so small a bird he was attracting a great deal of notice in the world. Following Pee-wee's lead, others including Tom and Roy ventured upon the lawn, smiling and straining their eyes to follow the tantalizing movements of the little fugitive.