Mr. Stone laughed. “Tame is the word. Everybody look the other way, and pretend to pay no attention.”
They did so, and suddenly there was a flutter close by, a little peep, a flap of wings, and one of the birds was right down on the box by the stove that served as a kitchen table, and up in the tree again with half a slice of bread in his bill.
“Well, I’ll be switched!” Bennie exclaimed. “Can you beat that! What are they?”
“Ever heard of camp robbers?”
“Are those camp robbers, eh? Canada jays is another name, isn’t it? Well, I thought camp robbers were ugly birds. Those are beautiful.”
“They are beautiful, but now they’ve discovered the camps up here, we’ll have to keep everything covered. They can’t take a hint worth a cent.”
“Let’s shoo ’em over to California’s camp,” laughed Bennie.
Presently they started off for Garfield.
“Hey, Uncle Bill, where’s the rope?” Bennie asked.
“Don’t need it today.”