spied out the corn, and the fact
that it was there, by some telegraphic system in vogue among the
birds, had spread for miles around; and making their way through the
tall grass from every direction, at once, as the sun appeared, they
flew in a huge body over the little cabin into the field. For this
species of grouse (_Tetrao cupido_) are models of good order and
punctuality as to their meals, and many an _eastern_ boy or girl
might, we suspect, get a useful hint from them on table etiquette.
They assemble, as if by appointment, around the farmer's grain-field,
and quietly wait for the breakfast signal, which is the rising of the
sun, then enter the enclosure together, and having fed just one hour
by their unerring chronometer, they retire, to return at sunset for
another hour's feeding. This was their first visit to Mr. Jones's
patch; doubtless the trampled and scattered corn had tempted them in
now.

Tom's eyes danced for joy, as, peeping at the hens, he hurried on his
clothes. Hundreds were there pecking along like so many turkeys. It
was the combined whirr of their wings that woke him so effectually;
many an older person on the frontier has been deceived by the same
sound, supposing it to be thunder, so heavy a noise do these wild fowl
of the prairies make when numbers of them fly together.

"Won't mother be glad!" he whispered to himself; "and what a dinner
she'll have to-day!" And descending the ladder, he took from the
hooked pegs overhead his father's old shot-gun, where it had hung
unused for months, and from a little box some powder and shot, and a
percussion cap; then loading in haste, he rested the weapon on the
window-sill, that he might take steady aim, and fired at the fowl. A
terrible report followed, and Tom came to himself to find his mother
bathing his forehead, and his sisters crying. The gun was out of
order, and, being also overloaded, had blown off the lock, burning his
face, and stunning him by the recoil.

Poor Tom returned to consciousness to suffer. His face began rapidly
to swell, and presented a frightful appearance, so blackened was it by
the powder, and the smarting was intense. Mrs. Jones, in her isolated
life, had been too many times thrown on her own resources to be wholly
overcome by the disaster. Her chief anxiety was lest Tom's eyes were
destroyed, as the eyebrows and eyelashes had been completely burned
off by the explosion. When she saw, however, that he was not blind,
she sai