mounted a gun in the
shape of a pea-shooter upon the ledge of their window, trained so as to
bear exactly upon the spot which Martin had to occupy while tending his
nurselings. The moment he began to feed, they began to shoot; in vain
did the enemy himself invest in a pea-shooter, and endeavour to answer
the fire while he fed the young birds with his other hand; his attention
was divided, and his shots flew wild, while every one of theirs told on
his face and hands, and drove him into howlings and imprecations. He had
been driven to ensconce the nest in a corner of his already too
well-filled den.

His door was barricaded by a set of ingenious bolts of his own
invention, for the sieges were frequent by the neighbours when any
unusually ambrosial odour spread itself from the den to the neighbouring
studies. The door panels were in a normal state of smash, but the frame
of the door resisted all besiegers, and behind it the owner carried on
his varied pursuits; much in the same state of mind, I should fancy, as
a Border-farmer lived in, in the days of the old mosstroopers, when his
hold might be summoned or his cattle carried off at any minute of night
or day.

"Open, Martin, old boy--it's only I, Tom Brown."

"Oh, very well, stop a moment." One bolt went back. "You're sure East
isn't there?"

"No, no, hang it, open." Tom gave a kick, the other bolt creaked, and he
entered the den.

Den indeed it was, about five feet six inches long by five wide, and
seven feet high. About six tattered school-books, and a few chemical
books, Taxidermy, Stanley on Birds, and an odd volume of Bewick, the
latter in much better preservation, occupied the top shelves. The other
shelves, where they had not been cut away and used by the owner for
other purposes, were fitted up for the abiding places of birds, beasts
and reptiles. There was no attempt at carpet or curtain. The table was
entirely occupied by the great work of Martin, the electric machine,
which was covered carefully with the remains of his table-cloth. The
jackdaw cage occupied one wall, and the other was adorned by a small
hatchet, a pair of climbing irons, and his tin candle-box, in which he
was for the time being endeavouring to raise a hopeful young family of
field-mice. As nothing should be let to lie useless, it was well that
the candle-box was thus occupied, for candles Martin never had. A pound
was issued to him weekly as, to the other boys, but as candles were
avail