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He had almost made up his mind that he would camp on the bank for the rest of the night and walk home in the morning, when he was startled by hearing a low, familiar whistle, something like the chirp of a cricket, a short distance away. He listened until the sound was repeated, and then called out, in a husky voice: "Julius!"
So he looked all around to see what he could discover that was different from the food he had been gathering. And it wasn't long before he gave a chirp of delight. "Here's a pretty beetle!" he cried. "I know it will make Mrs. Wren smile when I show it to her." Thereupon Rusty Wren pounced upon Mrs. Ladybug and bore her away, struggling, in his bill. RUSTY WREN hurried home, carrying Mrs.
"It's right uncomfortable here." "Keep still. Don't say a word. Yore friends are gettin' close. Let a chirp outa you, and you'll never have time to be sorry," warned the cattleman. The two men tied their horses behind some heavy mesquite and chose their own cover. Here they crouched down and waited. They could hear the horses of the outlaws climbing the hill out of the valley to the pass.
He looked so sick that I could not help saying he looked too unwell to go beyond, and I wished he would come in. But he burst into tears, saying, "Yes, my child, I am very, very sick, but I must go on." Poor old man, with his snow-white beard! July 27th. I have my bird back! As I waked this morning, I heard a well-known chirp in the streets, and called to mother I knew it was Jimmy.
Holy to them grew the stillness: the ripple suffused in golden moonlight: the dark edges of the leaves against superlative brightness. Not a chirp was heard, nor anything save the cool and endless carol of the happy waters, whose voices are the spirits of silence. Nature seemed consenting that their hands should be joined, their eyes intermingling.
It is Saturday night; the swell of the Hudson lazily heaves against the shores of Tappan Zee, the cliff above Tarrytown where the white lady cries on winter nights is pale in starlight, and crickets chirp in the boskage. It is so still that the lap of oars can be heard coming across the water at least a mile away.
"Oh, Dickie, Dickie, what am I going to do with you?" she cried, slipping a finger through the wires of the cage. The canary hopped toward her and tried to chirp his greeting. "Even when you were sick you tried to sing to me, and mother did love you," she sighed. "I just can't kill you trusting me like that." She turned her back, seeking to solve the problem by ignoring it.
One can hear the roar of the distant ocean breaking itself against the giant rocks; one can hear, too, in strange contrast, the chirp, chirp of the green grasshopper. As they come within view of the fountain, all their mouths form themselves into many round Os, and they say, "Ah!" as with one breath. The scene is indeed charming beyond description.
The first birds were beginning to chirp in the brush when figures came crawling out of the tents, with a great stretching of arms, and long yawns.
The big, good-natured crowd had grown silent, so silent that from the high, sun-warmed grass in the infield one could hear the lazy chirp of the crickets. As though repeating a prayer, or an incantation, Dolly's lips were moving quickly. "Green cap," she whispered, "green jacket, green and white hoops!" With a sharp sigh the crowd broke the silence.
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