e first assault all but swept it from the tree,
and it shrank back upon itself with flattened head and angry hiss.
Then it struck fiercely, again and again, at its bewildering
assailants. But swift as were its movements, those of the king-birds
were swifter, and its fangs never hit upon so much as one harassing
feather. Suddenly, in its fury, it struck out too far, weakening for a
moment its hold upon the crevices of the bark; and in that moment,
both birds striking it together, its squirming folds were hurled to
the ground. Thoroughly cowed, it slipped under cover and made off,
only a wavering line among the grasses betraying its path. The
king-birds, with excited and defiant twittering, followed for a little
its hidden retreat, and then returned elated to the nest.

Among the kindred of the wild as well as among those of roof and
hearth, events are apt to go in company. For day after day things will
revolve in set fashion. Then chance takes sudden interest in a
particular spot or a certain individual, and there, for a time, is
established a centre for events. This day of the black snake was an
eventful day for the little kings of the intervale. They had hardly
more than recovered from their excitement over the snake when a red
squirrel, his banner of a tail flaunting superbly behind him, came
bounding over the grass to their tree. His intentions may have been
strictly honourable. But a red squirrel's intentions are liable to
change in the face of opportunity. As he ran up the tree, and paused
curiously at the nested crotch, a feathered thunderbolt struck him on
the side of the head. It knocked him clean out of the tree; and he
turned a complete somersault in the air before he could get his
balance and spread his legs so as to alight properly. When he reached
the ground he fled in dismay, and was soon heard chattering
vindictively among the branches of a far-off poplar.

It was a little before noon when came the great event of this eventful
day. The male king-bird was on the edge of the nest, feeding a fat
moth to his mate. As he straightened up and glanced around he saw a
large marsh-hawk winnowing low across the river. As it reached the
shore it swooped into the reed-fringe, but rose again without a
capture. For a few minutes it quartered the open grass near the bank,
hunting for mice. The two king-birds watched it with anxious, angry
eyes. Suddenly it sailed straight toward the tree; and the king-birds
shot into t