but he troubled them no more.

The family went on toward the water, but a cow had left deep tracks in
the sandy loam, and into one of these fell one of the chicks and peeped
in dire distress when he found he could not get out.

This was a fix. Neither old one seemed to know what to do, but as they
trampled vainly round the edge, the sandy bank caved in, and, running
down, formed a long slope, up which the young one ran and rejoined his
brothers under the broad veranda of their mother's tail.

Brownie was a bright little mother, of small stature, but keen of wit
and sense, and was, night and day, alert to care for her darling chicks.
How proudly she stepped and clucked through the arching woods with her
dainty brood behind her; how she strained her little brown tail almost
to a half-circle to give them a broader shade, and never flinched at
sight of any foe, but held ready to fight or fly, whichever seemed the
best for her little ones.

[Illustration: Redruff saving Runtie.]

Before the chicks could fly they had a meeting with old Cuddy; though it
was June, he was out with his gun. Up the third ravine he went, and
Tike, his dog, ranging ahead, came so dangerously near the Brownie brood
that Redruff ran to meet him, and by the old but never-failing trick led
him on a foolish chase away back down the valley of the Don.

But Cuddy, as it chanced, came right along, straight for the brood, and
Brownie, giving the signal to the children, '_Krrr, krrr_' (Hide, hide),
ran to lead the man away just as her mate had led the dog. Full of a
mother's devoted love, and skilled in the learning of the woods she ran
in silence till quite near, then sprang with a roar of wings right in
his face, and tumbling on the leaves she shammed a lameness that for a
moment deceived the poacher. But when she dragged one wing and whined
about his feet, then slowly crawled away, he knew just what it
meant--that it was all a trick to lead him from her brood, and he struck
at her a savage blow; but little Brownie was quick, she avoided the blow
and limped behind a sapling, there to beat herself upon the leaves
again in sore distress, and seem so lame that Cuddy made another try to
strike her down with a stick. But she moved in time to balk him, and
bravely, steadfast still to lead him from her helpless little ones, she
flung herself before him and beat her gentle breast upon the ground, and
moaned as though begging for mercy. And Cuddy, failing agai