o
drink and bathe themselves, and on their return found their home
despoiled for a second time. Not an egg was left to them out of the
six, and while Nancy wept and wailed Tom looked sharply around him and
saw a solitary shrike sitting on a limb not far away."

"What's a shrike?" asked Chubbins.

"It is a bird that looks a good deal like that mocking-bird sitting
next you; but it bears a bad character in the forest and has earned the
vile name of 'butcher-bird.' I admit that I am always obliged to keep
an eye upon the shrike, for I expect it to get into mischief at any
time. Well, Tom Titmouse naturally thought the shrike had eaten Nancy's
eggs, so he came to me and ordered me to arrest the robber. But the
shrike pleaded his innocence, and I had no proof against him.

"Again Nancy, with true motherly courage and perseverance, laid her
eggs in the nest; and now they were never left alone for a single
minute. Either she or Tom was always at home, and for my part I watched
the shrike carefully and found he did not fly near the nest of the
titmice at all.

"The result of our care was that one fine day the eggs hatched out, and
six skinny little titmice, with big heads and small bodies, were
nestling against Nancy's breast. The mother thought they were
beautiful, you may be sure, and many birds gathered around to
congratulate her and Tom, and the brown thrush sang a splendid song of
welcome to the little ones.

"When the children got a little stronger it did not seem necessary to
guard the nest so closely, and the six appetites required a good many
insects and butterfly-eggs to satisfy them. So Tom and Nancy both flew
away to search for food, and when they came back they found, to their
horror, that their six little ones had been stolen, and the nest was
bare and cold. Nancy nearly fainted with sorrow, and her cries were
pitiful and heart-rending; but Tom Titmouse was dreadfully angry, and
came to me demanding vengeance.

"'If you are any good at all as a policeman,' said he, 'you will
discover and punish the murderer of my babies.'

"So I looked all around and finally discovered, not far from the nest
of the titmice, four of their children, all dead and each one impaled
upon the thorn of a bush that grew close to the ground. Then I decided
it was indeed the shrike, for he has a habit of doing just this thing;
killing more than he can eat and sticking the rest of his murdered
victims on thorns until he finds time to