was not permitted to rest there; out he was soon driven and
away into another bush, and again into still another further
away, and finally he was hunted over the sheltering wall into
the bleak wind on the other side. Then the persecutor came
back and settled himself on his old perch on the bramble, well
satisfied at his victory over a bird so much bigger than
himself. All was again peace and harmony in the little social
gathering, and the pleasant talkee-talkee went on as before.
About five minutes passed, then the hunted blackbird returned,
and, going to the identical spot from which he had been
driven, composed himself to rest; only now he sat facing his
lively little enemy.

I was astonished to see him back; so, apparently, was the
chaffinch. He started, craned his neck, and regarded his
adversary first with one eye then with the other. "What, rags
and tatters, back again so soon!" I seem to hear him say.
"You miserable travesty of a bird, scarcely fit for a weasel
to dine on! Your presence is an insult to us, but I'll soon
settle you. You'll feel the cold on the other, side of the
wall when I've knocked off a few more of your rusty rags."

Down from his perch he came, but no sooner had he touched his
feet to the ground than the blackbird went straight at him
with extraordinary fury. The chaffinch, taken by surprise,
was buffeted and knocked over, then, recovering himself, fled
in consternation, hotly pursued by the sick one. Into the
bush they went, but in a moment they were out again, darting
this way and that, now high up in the trees, now down to the
ground, the blackbird always close behind; and no little bird