h black markings. He was of about the
size of the little Bantam hens Peter had seen in Farmer Brown's henyard.

In the most stately way you can imagine Strutter walked the length of
that mossy log. He was a perfect picture of pride as he strutted very
much like Tom Gobbler the big Turkey cock. When he reached the end of
the log he suddenly dropped his tail, stretched himself to his full
height and his wings began to beat, first slowly then faster and faster,
until they were just a blur. They seemed to touch above his back but
when they came down they didn't quite strike his sides. It was those
fast moving wings that made the thunder. It was so loud that Peter
almost wanted to stop his ears. When it ended Strutter settled down to
rest and once more appeared like a ball of fluffy feathers. His ruff was
laid flat.

Peter watched him thunder several times and then ventured to show
himself. "Strutter, you are wonderful! simply wonderful!" cried Peter,
and he meant just what he said.

Strutter threw out his chest proudly. "That is just what Mrs. Grouse
says," he replied. "I don't know of any better thunderer if I do say it
myself."

"Speaking of Mrs. Grouse, where is she?" asked Peter eagerly.

"Attending to her household affairs, as a good housewife should,"
retorted Strutter promptly.

"Do you mean she has a nest and eggs?" asked Peter.

Strutter nodded. "She has twelve eggs," he added proudly.

"I suppose," said Peter artfully, "her nest is somewhere near here on
the ground."

"It's on the ground, Peter, but as to where it is I am not saying a
word. It may or it may not be near here. Do you want to hear me thunder
again?"

Of course Peter said he did, and that was sufficient excuse for Strutter
to show off. Peter stayed a while longer to gossip, but finding Strutter
more interested in thundering than in talking, he once more started for
home.

"I really would like to know where that nest is," said he to himself
as he scampered along. "I suppose Mrs. Grouse has hidden it so cleverly
that it is quite useless to look for it."

On his way he passed a certain big tree. All around the ground was
carpeted with brown, dead leaves. There were no bushes or young trees
there. Peter never once thought of looking for a nest. It was the last
place in the world he would expect to find one. When he was well past
the big tree there was a soft chuckle and from among the brown leaves
right at the foot of that big tree a head