snow. Most of the
time the cripple stood motionless, watching his companion and guarding
his swept circle, and, as often as he could, he fed. And neither then
nor at any other time, except once when the gardener nearly trod upon
him before he would move, did he utter a sound. The last glimmer of
day showed him still at his post, motionless, all but invisible. But
he roosted, as a matter of fact, in the privet-hedge, on the south side
of the summer-house, and this time he was not alone.

The day had been trying enough, with its fights and its three cats,
which passed within reach of him, and could have slain him--for his
injuries made him slow to get under way--if they had not failed to see
him, because so still. The night, however, was a clouded terror.

Certainly he went to bed--if one may so call it--full, if not warm
exactly; but that was the only advantage. It snowed with ghastly,
relentless steadiness, and it blew like the hacking of sharp knives.

But through it all, because full fed, the cripple, with all his
handicap, and his lady companion lived; lived to see the hard dawn pale
tardily; lived to watch the kind gardener--under strict orders
assuredly, or he would never have done it--sweep a space clear on the
lawn and spread food for the birds; lived to ruffle his feathers and
fly down; and lived to see the thaw which came that afternoon, when the
warm sou'-wester came romping over the land, and winter's last stand
was overcome by the forces of spring, and all the wild breathed a sigh
of relief and went abroad gayly to feed.

But the cripple lived to see other things. For there came a day, about
a week later, when our cripple, who had been "keeping company" all the
time with his lady friend, heard the whole dawn awaken to a sudden
mighty chorus of thrush song. I don't know why they all chose to burst
into song thus as at a given signal, but they did, and the effect upon
the cripple and his companion was curious. He had just landed upon the
top of the summer-house on his one leg, in a particularly awkward and
unbalanced manner, and he perched, listening, as if rooted to the spot,
and with something nearly approaching horror in his eyes, it seemed to
me.

The female bird listened, too, for about a minute, and then, ignoring
the poor cripple as if he had never existed, hopped towards the
spruce-fir--atop of which a particularly fine and strong-voiced
songster was warbling--as if she were drawn by rope