forehead the size of a hen's egg,
which was still swelling and by this time threatening to close one eye.

"You poor darling little pet! Did you fall out of the tree and bump your
head? I is _so_ sorry," and talking such baby talk to him, she carried him
off into the house to put witch hazel and a bandage on his head.

All this time Polly kept screaming, "Help! Help! Help!"

"Someone must have thrown a stone and hurt Peter-Kins," decided Miss
Belinda, "or Polly would not be calling for help. The next time I go out,
I will shut them in the house so nothing can happen to them."

CHAPTER VII

ZIP, PETER-KINS AND THE TURKEY GOBBLER

Promptly at nine-thirty the next morning the doctor's carriage appeared in
front of his patient's house opposite Miss Belinda's cottage.

Zip lay quietly on the seat until the doctor had disappeared in the house,
and then he quickly jumped out of the buggy, tiptoed across the street and
quietly slipped under the fence. Once under, he stood stock-still and
listened, eyes up and ears alert to catch any sound or see any movement of
his old enemies, the monkey and the parrot. All was quiet in the front
yard, and not even Polly's cage was to be seen swinging on its accustomed
hook beside the front door. Still Zip listened and looked in every tree
and bush, to make sure the monkey was not hiding under the leaves, ready
to pounce on him. He had just come to the conclusion that they had been
shut in the house when he heard a terrible commotion and cackling going on
in the chicken yard, and above it all Polly's voice screaming, "Help!
Help! Naughty Peter-Kinks! (This was Polly's name for Peter-Kins.) Spank!
Spank! Help! Help!"

Polly had heard Miss Belinda say this so many times that she had learned
to imitate her perfectly.

"That monkey is up to some mischief," thought Zip. "I'll run and see what
he's up to, and maybe I'll have a chance to get even with him for running
his claws into my back when he was taking that ride!"

Soon Zip was at the fence that divided the chicken yard from the lawn, and
looking through the pales, this is what he saw:

Peter-Kins ran down the trunk of a big elm tree that shaded part of the
chicken yard, then he grabbed up a tiny little fluffy yellow chicken right
from under the old hen's very bill, and made off with it up the tree. This
made the old hen so angry and frightened that she cackled and carried on
just like people do when terrified. Then just whe