r stalking his prey or leaping on
it."

"Tis a cruel part," said Trove. "He is the murderer of the play.
I cannot understand why there are so many villains in its cast,
Both the cat and the serpent baffle me."

"Marry, boy, the world is a great school--an' this little drama o'
the good God is part of it," said Darrel. "An' the play hath a
great moral--thou shalt learn to use thy brain or die. Now, there
be many perils in this land o' the woods--so many that all its
people must learn to think or perish by them. A pretty bit o'
wisdom it is, sor. It keeps the great van moving--ever moving, in
the long way to perfection. Now, among animals, a growing brain
works the legs of its owner, sending them far on diverse errands
until they are strong. Mind thee, boy, perfection o' brain and
body is the aim o' Nature. The cat's paw an' the serpent's coil
are but the penalties o' weakness an' folly. The world is for the
strong. Therefore, God keep thee so, or there be serpents will
enter thy blood an' devour thee--millions o' them."

"And what is the meaning of this law?"

"That the weak shall not live to perpetuate their kind," said
Darrel. "Every year there is a tournament o' the sparrows. Which
deserves the fair--that is the question to be settled. Full tilt
they come together, striking with lance and wing. Knight strives
with knight, lady with lady, and the weak die. Lest thou forget,
I'll tell thee a tale, boy, wherein is the great plan. The queen
bee--strongest of all her people--is about to marry.[1] A clear
morning she comes out o' the palace gate--her attendants following.
The multitude of her suitors throng the vestibule; the air, now
still an' sweet, rings with the sound o' fairy timbrels. Of a
sudden she rises into the blue sky, an' her suitors follow. Her
swift wings cleave the air straight as a plummet falls. Only the
strong may keep in sight o' her; bear that in mind, boy. Her
suitors begin to fall wearied. Higher an' still higher the good
queen wings her way. By an' by, of all that began the journey,
there is but one left with her, an' he the strongest of her people.
An' they are wed, boy, up in the sun-lit deep o' heaven. So the
seed o' life is chosen, me fine lad."

[1 In behalf of Darrel, the author makes acknowledgment of his
indebtedness to M. Maurice Maeterlinck for an account of the
queen's flight in his interesting "Life of the Bee."]

They sat a little time in silence, lookin