UND, AND HE WAS DISCOVERED.]

Physically he was at an immense disadvantage. His clumsy movements availed
but little against the fierce agility of the red vole. Time after time he
snapped at her and missed; for, even as he aimed, she could swing her
lithe body round and leap upon him from behind. Nor, when they grappled,
could he retain his hold on her. Against the leverage of those powerful
hind legs he could do nothing.

His cause, moreover, was a bad one. Was he not the intruder? and when was
ever mercy accorded to such among four-footed things? His strength was
fast failing when he fled, hotly pursued, up to the open once more. He
only exchanged one foe for four. Lacerated, faint, and bleeding, he
crouched, waiting for their attack. It was a short and savage one. An owl
hooted above, the red voles rushed to cover, but he remained behind.

He had only really felt one bite. A pair of razor teeth had nipped his
spine, and--he had hardly noticed a dozen other wounds. He was terribly
thirsty, and struggled to reach a dewdrop which hung above his head, but
his hind legs were paralyzed and powerless. Gradually his eyelids drooped,
and he sank slowly over on one side. It was growing very dark and very
cold.

THE APOLOGY OF THE HOUSE SPARROW

(NOTE.--It would not be morally profitable to describe how I learnt
Sparrowese. The language of the sparrow is the language of the
gutter. I have Englishized it throughout.)

"I was the odd egg, for one thing," said the sparrow. He was speaking with
his mouth full, as usual.

[Illustration: HE WAS SPEAKING WITH HIS MOUTH FULL, AS USUAL.]

"What on earth do you mean by that?" I replied.

He laughed offensively. "Do you know anything about sparrows?" he sneered.

I confessed I did not know much.

"I never knew any one write about them who did," he went on. "What was I
saying when you interrupted me?"

"You said you were the odd egg," I replied. "What _is_ an odd egg?"

"Do you know what a _clutch_ is?" His intonation was insolence itself.

"A clutch," said I, "is, I believe, a sitting of eggs destined to be
simultaneously hatched."

"Perhaps you may have noticed," said he, "that in our family"--his every
feather bristled with importance, and the white bars on his wings were
beautifully displayed--"we do not confine ourselves to a single monotonous
pattern of egg."

"A string of variegated sparrows' eggs was one of my earliest treasures,"
said I.