IL] THE HISTORY OF A ROOK. 93

 

quiet for at least half an hour. Then I thought
I could bear it no longer, and I began to peck the
trap with frantic energy, by which means I hurt
my own beak without doing the slightest good.
Luckily for me—if I can call that ‘luck’ which, after
all, was only a mitigation of a cruel misfortune, the
trap had sprung so quickly together, or I had trod so
lightly, that I was caught very little above the claw.
Had it been otherwise, indeed, and had I sunk so far
as to have been caught by the thigh, nothing could
have saved me from an agonising death, and this story
would never have been written. My leg, however,
just above the claw, was nearly cut in two, so you
may suppose that the pain was not slight. I was in
great doubt what to do, and in dreadful fear of what
might happen next, when I heard a little rustling
sound near me, and turning my head, perceived a
squirrel seated upon a branch of the tree above my
head. Uncertain of his intentions, I cast a piteous
look towards the little animal, but said nothing.
After a moment’s silence, however, he accosted me in
a friendly tone of voice.

‘Why, gossip rook,’ said he, ‘vou have fallen into
a scrape, I fear.’

‘Scrape, indeed, squirrel,’ cawed I sorrowfully,
‘and one that I know not how to get out of. Woe
betide the day that ever I saw this wood !’

‘Cheer up, friend, cheer up, replied Pug ; ‘the wood
is not a bad wood after all, if it were not for the
keepers and their traps, and the pheasants which
tempt the poachers. Can nothing be done to help
you?’