THE CROW-CHILD ' 153

its weary little waves upon the shore: there was no other
sound,

It seemed that daylight never would come; but at last
the trees turned slowly from black to green, and the lake
put out its stars, one by one, and waited for the new day.

Cora, who had been wandering restlessly in every direc-
tion, now went weeping into the cottage. “Poor boy!” she
sobbed ; “he had no supper.” Then she scattered bread-
crumbs near the doorway, hoping that Ruky would come
for them; but only a few timid little songsters hovered
about, and, while Cora wept, picked up the food daintily,
as though it burned their bills. When she reached forth
her hand, though there were no crows among them, and
called “Ruky! Ruky!” they scattered and flew away in
an instant.

Next she went to the steep-roofed barn, and, bringing
out an apronful of grain, scattered it all around his favorite
tree. Before long, to her great joy, a flock of crows came
by. They spied the grain, and soon were busily picking it
up with their short, feathered bills. One even came near
the mound where she sat. Unable to restrain herself
longer, she fell wpon her knees with an imploring ery :

“Oh, Ruky ! is this you ?”

Instantly the entire flock set up an anery “caw,” and,
surrounding the crow, who was hopping closer and closer to
Cora, hurried him off, until they all looked like mere specks
against the summer sky.

Every day, rain or shine, she scattered the grain, tremb-
ling with dread lest Nep should leap among the hungry
crows, and perhaps kill her “little bird” first. But Nep