through, it glowed a glossy blue. He did not know its name, but it was
a brave bird, a gay bird. Now and then it ceased its hopping back and
forth, raised its head and sent forth a deep, sweet, thrilling note,
amazing in volume to come from so small a body. Had he dared to make a
sound Robert would have whistled a bar or two in reply. The bird was a
friend to one alone and in need, and its dauntless melody made his
own heart beat higher. If a creature so tiny was not afraid in the
wilderness why should he be!

He had learned to take sharp notice of everything. On the border and
in such times, man was compelled to observe with eye and ear, with all
the five senses; and often too with a sixth sense, an intuition, an
outgrowth of the other five, developed by long habit and training,
which the best of the rangers possessed to a high degree, and in which
the lad was not lacking. He knew that the minutest trifle must not
escape his attention, or the forfeit might be his life.

While he relaxed his own care not at all, he felt that the bird was a
wary sentinel for him. He knew that if an enemy came in haste through
the undergrowth it would fly away before him. He had been warned in
that manner in another crisis and he had full faith now in the caution
of the valiant little singer. His trust, in truth, was so great that
he rose from his covert and bent down for a third drink of the clear
cool water. Then he stood up, his figure defiant, and took long, deep
breaths, his heart now beating smoothly and easily, as if it had been
put to no painful test. Still no sound of a foe, and he thought that
perhaps the pursuit had died down, but he knew enough of the warriors
of the woods to make sure, before he resumed a flight that would
expose him in the open.