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It was a weakness which Bobolink had to guard against; lest he discover things that had no foundation in fact. He sat there, listening and looking, for a long time.
"But supposing it wasn't a canary," said Polly hesitatingly; "supposing it might be a redbird, or a wren, or or " "Or a bobolink?" Miss Kathy smiled as she supplied the word. "Well yes, a bobolink, for instance." And Polly glanced toward me. "Any captured bird certainly feels very bad to be shut up in a cage all its life, though I have seen robins in captivity that grew to be as tame as canaries.
And feeling all ready for a lark one morning and not knowing what else to do, he decided to visit the meadow and play a trick on Bobby Bobolink and his wife. So when the Bobolinks were away from home on a short trip Mr. Catbird flew to their end of the meadow and hid in a bush not far from the spot where they had built their nest on the ground. From his hiding place Mr. Catbird watched closely.
Bobolink hastened to say that she wasn't musical. "Of course I enjoy hearing songs," she told him; "but I'm not much of a singer myself." "Your husband is one of the best," Mr. Meadowlark told her hopefully. "Yes!" she replied. "And sometimes I think he spends almost too much of his time practicing." "Oh, I can sing and work at the same time," Bobby Bobolink declared.
"Well, they say lightning don't strike in the same place twice; and that goes with your old buzzing meteors too, I reckon; so what's the use in our staying up any longer?" remarked Bobolink, who seemed quite satisfied with the explanation Paul had given of the queer noise, and the flash of brilliant light. So they crawled back into their snug nests, and tried to compose themselves for sleep.
And quickly on the heels of this sound came a low, threatening growl that, strangely enough, made Bobolink chuckle softly, he was so pleased over having his announcement proven true to the Commodore of the motorboat fleet. "Look out, Paul," he whispered; "he's laying for you in those bushes. Better keep your gun handy, and be ready to give him Hail Columbia!" Paul did not answer.
If the little episode just ended had been, as it were, a bobolink singing to Louise Ordway during her final days on earth, it was not he who would find fault with the bird or with those who had set it singing.
Bobolink and Tom were staring at the plain marks in the sand, with wonderment written on their faces; and even Paul shook his head. "We'll have to look into this thing," said Paul, finally, seeing that his three chums were waiting for an opinion from the one they looked up to as their leader. "But what I said was pretty close to the truth; wasn't it, Paul?" Jack asked.
"I think, from the way the rear men stepped into the prints of the one up head, that whatever they were carrying could not have been very lengthy; in fact, it must have been short, but rather broad." "Well, that's a smart idea of yours, Paul, and I c'n see how you hit on it," Bobolink was quick to say, with a look of sincere admiration.
"Mebbe he smelled you here, and wanted to make up again?" suggested Bobolink. "Don't you believe it," retorted Nuthin. "He never did like me, and my dad wouldn't let me go near his kennel. When he skipped out we all felt glad of it. And to think he'd show up here, of all places! What d'ye reckon he's doin' over here on this island, Paul?" "Listen.
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