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Updated: May 4, 2025
Will's rough tongue, together with Pewee's rude fists, were enough to bully almost any boy. They let Harvey Collins alone, because he was older, and, keeping to himself, awed them by his dignity; good-natured Bob Holliday, also, was big enough to take care of himself.
The Pewee's nest is very pretty almost as dainty as the Hummingbird's. I will try to find it for you as we go back this afternoon." "Then the Wood Pewee builds late, like the Cedar Waxwing and Goldfinch?" said Rap. "Yes, rather late; about the first or second week in June.
They's some chaps from Greenbank down here, and they're in for a frolic, and somebody's hen-roost'll suffer, I guess; and they don't like you boys, and they talked about routing you out to-night." "Thank you," said Jack. "Let 'em rout," said Bob. But the poor little Pet Owl was all in a cold shudder again. About eleven o'clock, King Pewee's party had picked the last bone of Mrs. Kane's chicken.
As there were no water-melon patches nor orchards to be robbed at this season of the year, they decided to have an egg-supper, and then to wait for the moon to rise after midnight before starting to row and cordelle their two boats up the river again to Greenbank. The fun of an egg-supper to Pewee's party consisted not so much in the eggs as in the manner of getting them.
"Give it to him, Pewee," said Ben Berry; "he's too sassy." Pewee was a rather good-natured dog he had to be set on. He now began to strike at Jack. Whether he was to be killed or not, Jack did not know, but he was resolved not to submit to the bully. Yet he could not do much at defence against Pewee's hard fists.
So, when King Pewee, fighting in the irregular Western fashion, and hoping to get a decided advantage at once, rushed upon Jack and pulled his head forward, Jack stooped lower than his enemy expected, and, thrusting his head between Pewee's knees, shoved his legs from under him, and by using all his strength threw Pewee over his own back, so that the king's nose and eyes fell into the dust of the village street.
An officer in the guild of Sky Sweepers, who shoots through the air in the shape of a bow and arrow. "Come softly," said the Doctor, returning to the roadside; "I have found the Pewee's nest; it is quite new, and has no eggs in it as yet. This way up along this ledge of rocks, and you can almost look into it."
Pewee's just killing a boy in the street." "Vitin' ag'in," said Mr. Rose, who was a Pennsylvanian from the limestone country, and spoke English with difficulty. "He ees a leetle ruffen, dat poy. I'll see apout him right avay a'ready, may be." And without waiting to put off his leathern apron, he walked briskly in the direction indicated by Joanna.
In the chestnut grove, where a month ago the wood thrush, the rose-breasted grosbeak, and the scarlet tanager were singing, the loiterer now hears nothing but the wood pewee's pensive whistle and the sharp monotony of the red-eyed vireo. The thrasher is silent in the berry pasture, and the bobolink in the meadow. The season of jollity is over.
"I'll pay you for that," growled Pewee, as he recovered himself, now thoroughly infuriated; and with a single blow he sent Jack flat on his back, and then proceeded to pound him. Jack could do nothing now but shelter his eyes from Pewee's blows.
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