Broom seated himself on the same branch as the cockatoo, and undid the
chain and prepared his hands for the downward journey.

"You've got a rare perch, this time," said he. And Pretty Cocky crept
towards him, and rubbed its head against him and chuckled with joy.

What dreams of liberty in the tree tops, with John Broom for a
playfellow, passed through his crested head, who shall say? But when he
found that his friend meant to take him prisoner, he became very angry
and much alarmed. And when John Broom grasped him by both legs and began
to descend, Cocky pecked him vigorously. But the boy held the back of
his head towards him, and went steadily down.

"Weel done!" roared the farm-bailiff. "Gently, lad! Gude save us! ha'e
a care o' yoursen. That's weel. Keep your pow at him. Dinna let the
beast get to your een."

But when John Broom was so near the ground as to be safe, the
farm-bailiff turned wrathfully upon his son, who had been gazing
open-mouthed at the sight which had so interested his father.

"Ye look weel standing gawping here, before the leddies," said he,
"wasting the precious hours, and bringing your father's grey hairs wi'
sorrow to the grave; and John Broom yonder shaming ye, and you not so
much as thinking to fetch the perch for him, ye lazy loon. Away wi' ye
and get it, before I lay a stick about your shoulders."

And when his son had gone for the perch, and John Broom was safely on
the ground, laughing, bleeding, and triumphant, the farm-bailiff said,--