r in the eye as he replied:

"I think you can trust me, Father, I'll do my best."

"I'm sure I can," said his father heartily. "The first thing you must
remember is never to leave it loaded. Half the accidents occur because
somebody 'didn't know it was loaded.' It's a simple matter to open it
and slip out the shells before you put it away."

Dr. Morton took the shiny steel weapon across his knee and, opening it,
slipped the shells quickly in and out, with Ernest and Jane watching
intently beside him.

"I believe I could do that," Chicken Little remarked complacently.

"You'd better not try, Miss Meddlesome Matty," ejaculated Ernest
sharply. "Don't you ever let me catch you touching it!"

The child looked rebellious but her father added sternly:

"Ernest is quite right, little daughter, you must never under any
circumstances try to handle this gun--but I have something for you that
will keep you busy. No," as she jumped up eagerly, "you must wait till
the last this time."

"I just can't wait much longer, Father. I'm all going round inside.
Please hurry!"

But for some reason her father wouldn't hurry. He brought out two gay
Navajo blankets for Mrs. Morton and Marian and a wonderful Mexican
bridle for Frank.

"You'll have plenty of use for it on the ranch. You'll be in the saddle
half your time I fancy," he told the latter.

He even unwrapped a little Indian basket, which he asked Mrs. Morton to
send to Alice. Still there was nothing for Chicken Little. She hung on
the arm of his chair and fidgeted. Finally, he looked round at her
quizzically:

"Why, my parcels are all gone and there doesn't seem to be anything for
you. Dear me, did I forget it?"

Just then Ernest got up and went out into the hall, coming back
presently, leaving the door open behind him. In spite of themselves the
family all looked toward the door. Chicken Little looked too, but saw
nothing. A moment later the queerest voice called:

"Chick-en Lit-tle! Chick-en Lit-tle! Poor Pete! Scat! Go off an' die!"

The words seemed to come from the floor and sounded as if they were
fired out of a popgun.

Chicken Little jumped down from her father's chair and stood for an
instant spellbound in the middle of the floor.

Then she fell upon the newcomer with a shout.

"Oh, it's a parrot! Ernest, it's a parrot!"

But Polly eyed her distrustfully.

"Scat--go off and die!" he exclaimed, promptly retreating toward the
door.

At a safe distance h