second later it awkwardly hopped to
the trunk of a lightning-riven elm, turned its back, and began searching
the blue.

Freckles looked just in time to see a second shadow sweep the grass; and
another bird, a trifle smaller and not quite so brilliant in the light,
slowly sailed down to perch beside the first. Evidently they were mates,
for with a queer, rolling hop the first-comer shivered his bronze wings,
sidled to the new arrival, and gave her a silly little peck on her
wing. Then he coquettishly drew away and ogled her. He lifted his head,
waddled from her a few steps, awkwardly ambled back, and gave her such
a simple sort of kiss on her beak that Freckles burst into a laugh, but
clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle the sound.

The lover ducked and side-stepped a few feet. He spread his wings
and slowly and softly waved them precisely as if he were fanning his
charmer, which was indeed the result he accomplished. Then a wave of
uncontrollable tenderness moved him so he hobbled to his bombardment
once more. He faced her squarely this time, and turned his head from
side to side with queer little jerks and indiscriminate peckings at her
wings and head, and smirkings that really should have been irresistible.
She yawned and shuffled away indifferently. Freckles reached up, pulled
the quill from his hat, and looking from it to the birds, nodded in
settled conviction.

"So you're me black angels, ye spalpeens! No wonder you didn't get in!
But I'll back you to come closer it than any other birds ever did. You
fly higher than I can see. Have you picked the Limberlost for a good
thing and come to try it? Well, you can be me chickens if you want to,
but I'm blest if you ain't cool for new ones. Why don't you take this
stick for a gun and go skinning a mile?"

Freckles broke into an unrestrained laugh, for the bird-lover was keen
about his courting, while evidently his mate was diffident. When he
approached too boisterously, she relieved him of a goodly tuft of
feathers and sent him backward in a series of squirmy little jumps that
gave the boy an idea of what had happened up-sky to send the falling
feather across his pathway.

"Score one for the lady! I'll be umpiring this," volunteered Freckles.

With a ravishing swagger, half-lifted wings, and deep, guttural hissing,
the lover approached again. He suddenly lifted his body, but she coolly
rocked forward on the limb, glided gracefully beneath him, and slowly
sail