“Hush! Hush! What’s that?” whispered one little snowbird to another as they huddled under the eaves of the old barn. “I hear sumfin.”
Just then old Mr. Long-Tail gave a low moan.
“Whew!—Someone is in distress,” cried the little snowbirds together as they cocked their heads to one side and listened.
Again came a moan.
“Whew! Some poor soul is in distress and we must help him.”
And those two little snowbirds spread their wings and went whirling down to a window sill, and finding a broken pane they poked their heads in and listened until they heard the sob again.
Then they both peeped loudly: “Who’s there?”
Faintly from the bin came a plaintive cry: “Help! Help! It’s me, poor Mr. Long-Tail.”
The two little snowbirds without hesitation flew right into the old barn and commenced to investigate.
“It’s old Mr. Long-Tail all right,” said one as he spied the tip of the rat’s tail protruding from the end of the box. “Oh! So you are the crabbed old fellow who shooed us away from your door this morning,” said the other upon recognizing Mr. Long-Tail’s voice.