at seeing
the queer creature that I sat still and stared, and this was my
undoing. For suddenly there came a rapid 'whish!' through the air, and
a network of cords fell all around and over me. Then, indeed, I spread
my wings and attempted to fly; but it was too late. I struggled in the
net without avail, and soon gave up the conflict in breathless despair.

"My captor did not intend to kill me, however. Instead, he tried to
soothe my fright, and carried me very gently for many, many miles,
until we came to a village of houses. Here, at the very top of a high
house, the man lived in one little room. It was all littered with tools
and bits of wood, and on a broad shelf were several queer things that
went 'tick-tock! tick-tock!' every minute. I was thrust, gently enough,
into a wooden cage, where I lay upon the bottom more dead than alive
because the ticking things at first scared me dreadfully and I was in
constant terror lest I should be tortured or killed. But the glass-eyed
old man brought me dainty things to eat, and plenty of fresh water to
relieve my thirst, and by the next day my heart had stopped going
pitty-pat and I was calm enough to stand up in my cage and look around
me.

"My white-whiskered captor sat at a bench with his coat off and his
bald head bare, while he worked away busily putting little wheels and
springs together, and fitting them into a case of wood. When one of
them was finished it would sing 'tick-tock! tick-tock!' just like the
other queer things on the shelf, and this constant ticking so
interested me that I raised my head and called:

"'Cuck-oo! cuck-oo!'"

"'That's it!' cried the old man, delightedly. 'That's what I wanted to
hear. It's the real cuckoo at last, and not a bit like those cheap
imitations.'

"I didn't understand at first what he meant, but he worked at his bench
all day, and finally brought to my cage a bird made out of wood, that
was carved and painted to look just as I was. It seemed so natural that
I flapped my wings and called 'cuck-oo' to it, and the man pressed a
little bellows at the bottom of the bird and made it say 'cuck-oo!' in
return. But that cry was so false and unreal that I just shouted with
laughter, and the glass-eyed old man shook his head sadly and said:
'That will never do. That will never do in the world.'

"So all the next day he worked hard trying to make his wooden bird say
'cuck-oo!' in the proper way; and at last it really spoke quite
naturall