"That's Jane," grinned Mr. Rooster, without turning around, "I hope they will choose her the next time they want one of my household, I really do."
"Oh, yes," sneered Jane, "you'll run away and squawk as you always do, and leave me to my fate."
"Run away," screamed Mr. Rooster making a dash for her, "I run away!"
"Fie, fie," I exclaimed, "you musn't show your valor by striking one of the weaker sex. You were intended to be her protector, you know."
I was here interrupted by a great commotion among the hens and chicks at the farther end of the enclosure.
"Only a quarrel, I presume," said he indifferently, "they can settle it among themselves, to-day."
"No, it seems to be something rather serious," I responded, and as I spoke a large cat succeeded in squeezing herself through the palings. Wildly ran the fowls about, cackling with fear.
"Hubby, hubby!" cried the hens.
"Papa, papa!" screamed the chicks.
"Run for your lives," admonished that hero, his knees knocking together, his comb and tail drooping, "run for your lives," and suiting the action to the word; away he scurried to the other side, and spreading his wings over the fence he flew, in his blind flight dropping at the feet of his hostile neighbor.