the shores of Takern.

A moment later a young farm-hand happened along. He saw Jarro, and came
and lifted him up. But Jarro, who asked for nothing but to be let die in
peace, gathered his last powers and nipped the farm-hand in the finger,
so he should let go of him.

Jarro didn't succeed in freeing himself. The encounter had this good in
it at any rate: the farm-hand noticed that the bird was alive. He
carried him very gently into the cottage, and showed him to the mistress
of the house--a young woman with a kindly face. At once she took Jarro
from the farm-hand, stroked him on the back and wiped away the blood
which trickled down through the neck-feathers. She looked him over very
carefully; and when she saw how pretty he was, with his dark-green,
shining head, his white neck-band, his brownish-red back, and his blue
wing-mirror, she must have thought that it was a pity for him to die.
She promptly put a basket in order, and tucked the bird into it.

All the while Jarro fluttered and struggled to get loose; but when he
understood that the people didn't intend to kill him, he settled down in
the basket with a sense of pleasure. Now it was evident how exhausted he
was from pain and loss of blood. The mistress carried the basket across
the floor to place it in the corner by the fireplace; but before she put
it down Jarro was already fast asleep.

In a little while Jarro was awakened by someone who nudged him gently.
When he opened his eyes he experienced such an awful shock that he
almost lost his senses. Now he was lost; for there stood _the_ one who
was more dangerous than either human beings or birds of prey. It was no
less a thing than Caesar himself--the long-haired dog--who nosed around
him inquisitively.

How pitifully scared had he not been last summer, when he was still a
little yellow-down duckling, every time it had sounded over the
reed-stems: "Caesar is coming! Caesar is coming!" When he had seen the
brown and white spotted dog with the teeth-filled jowls come wading
through the reeds, he had believed that he beheld death itself. He had
always hoped that he would never have to live through that moment when
he should meet Caesar face to face.

But, to his sorrow, he must have fallen down in the very yard where
Caesar lived, for there he stood right over him. "Who are you?" he
growled. "How did you get into the house? Don't you belong down among
the reed banks?"

It was with great difficulty that he g