Up in the woods on the side of the mountain Mother Mit-chee the Ruffled
Partridge built her nest, close beside the trail. It was nothing but a
little hollow in the ground, lined with leaves.
It was in plain sight and you would have supposed that anyone going
along the trail would have seen it. But they didn't. Old John the Indian
and Sam the hired man passed it a dozen times and never noticed it. Even
Old Boze did not find it, although he followed Sam up and down the trail
many times.
You see, Mother Mit-chee knew enough to sit perfectly still, and her
mottled feathers blended so exactly with the tree trunks and the dead
leaves about her that only the sharp eyes of the Finder of the Magic
Flower ever found her out.
Little Luke saw her one day as he was walking up the trail beside Sam
the hired man, and with Old Boze following at his heels. But he went
right on by, as if he had not seen Mother Mit-chee at all. He did not
want Sam or Old Boze to see her, for he knew they could not be trusted.
They would be almost sure to try to kill Mother Mit-chee, or at the very
least, they would rob her nest.
The next morning the little boy went up the trail alone, to pay Mother
Mit-chee a visit. "Good morning, Mother Mit-chee," said he, "I saw you
yesterday, but Sam and Old Boze didn't, and I wouldn't tell them."
"I knew you saw me," replied Mother Mit-chee, "and I knew you wouldn't
tell. You are too kind-hearted for that, especially since you found the
Magic Flower and learned the animal talk. We all trust you. You may come
to see me as often as you like, but be careful not to leave any trail
near my nest. I don't want Old Boze nosing around here. And when you
come along with any of the house people, just go right by and don't look
this way. I am more afraid of Old John the Indian than of anyone else.
He looked right at me the other day and I was sure he saw me. I was
scared, I tell you. I was all ready to fly away. But he didn't see me.
If he had, I never should have seen my eggs again."
"All right," said the little boy, "I'll do just as you say." And after
some more talk, he went on up the trail to visit some of his other
friends among the wild folk.
Many times during the days that followed the little boy stopped and
talked with the Mother Partridge. "If you will come to-morrow," said
she, one day, "I'll show you as fine a brood of partridge chicks as
anyone could wish to see."
"I'll be sure to come," answered the little boy, "for I want to see them
very much."
As he came up the next day, Mother Mit-chee stepped off her nest.
"There," said she, "there they are. Now aren't they fine ones?"
The little boy looked. In the nest there were a dozen of the daintiest,
downiest, little creatures he had ever seen. They were scarcely bigger
than an acorn. "They surely are a fine brood," said he. "Aren't you
afraid that something will catch them?"
"Of course I am afraid. I'm always afraid." said Mother Mit-chee, "but
the creature that catches them will have to be pretty sharp. I know a
trick or two that will fool most of the wild folk, and the house people
as well. You come up to-morrow and I'll show you. They are pretty young
now, and I don't want to disturb them unless I have to."
The next day the little boy found the nest empty. He looked carefully
about for Mother Mit-chee and her brood. Suddenly something rose almost
from under his feet, and whizzed off through the wood. There was a sound
like an explosion, followed by thunder, which scared the little boy so
that he jumped. But he saw that it was only Mother Mit-chee, and he had
seen her do that before.
He knew that the chicks were near at hand, and looked around carefully
for them.
Pretty soon Mother Mit-chee sailed around through the woods and dropped
to the ground but a little way from the boy. She seemed to have been
hurt, badly hurt. One wing dragged as if it was broken, and she limped
sadly.
"Ha, ha," laughed the little boy, "you can't fool me with that trick.
You needn't keep it up any longer, I shan't follow you. I know that you
are not hurt at all. Old John told me all about it. He told me that he
saw you playing that very trick on Kee-wuks the Red Fox only the other
day."
[Illustration]
"Well, well!" said Mother Mit-chee. "Did Old John see that? I didn't
know he was anywhere about. Yes," she went on. "Kee-wuks thought he had
me that time. I let him get close up. Then he jumped for me; but when he
landed where I was, I wasn't there! If I hadn't made him believe he
could catch me he might have found my chicks."
"Well," said Little Luke, "I heard Sam say that no one could find a
young partridge chick, but I'm going to try it. You know since I found
the Magic Flower my eyes are sharper than those of any of the other
house people."
"All right," said Mother Mit-chee, "I'll call them out. I'm afraid if
you walk around there, you'll step on them; they're right around your
feet." And she began calling to the chicks. "Kreet, kreet, come out,
come out, right away," she called.
Right before little Luke a dead leaf that was curled up seemed to come
to life, but it wasn't really the leaf. It was the partridge chick that
had squatted upon it that moved. Just before him, little Luke saw a tiny
bunch under the dead leaves. He reached down and seized it, but very
carefully. It was another one of the chicks. And the ground about him
seemed alive with the little ones as they came out at their mother's
call.
"Well done," said Mother Mit-chee, "your eyes certainly are good. But
handle him carefully. Don't squeeze too tight. There now, you've hurt
him!" (The little one was peeping as if in pain.)
Little Luke set him very carefully on the ground. "Don't worry," said
he, "he isn't hurt, he's only a little scared."
"Well," said Mother Mit-chee, "I must take these babies of mine down
to the spring and teach them how to drink. They have never tasted
water yet."
"Kreet, kreet, come along, come along," called Mother Mit-chee.
"Peep, peep, we're coming, we're coming, mother," said the little ones.
And they all started down the mountainside toward the spring.
It took a good while to get there, for the chicks were young, and their
little legs so short and so weak that Mother Mit-chee had to wait for
them a good many times. But it was a pretty sight. The yellow, downy,
little fellows marched along boldly behind their mother. Sometimes she
would go on a little way ahead. Then she would stop and call, "Kreet,
kreet, come along, children," and the little fellows would race to see
who could catch up first.
Some of them were not so strong as others, and at times they would squat
upon the ground to rest. Mother Mit-chee would wait as long as she
thought proper, and then tell them to "come along." And away they would
go down the mountainside.
At last they reached the spring. The little ones had never seen water
before, and did not know what to do. But Mother Mit-chee took a drop of
clear, cold water in her bill, and raised her head before she swallowed
it. Each chick copied her motion exactly. It was fun for the little boy
to watch them. Nearly the whole dozen would clip their little bills into
the water at once, and raise their heads to swallow it, as they had seen
their mother do.
"Mother Mit-chee," said the little boy, after they had all finished
drinking, "what makes you raise your head before you swallow the water?"
"Oh," said Mother Mit-chee, "that is our way of giving thanks to the
Master of Life for the cool, sweet water. Our family learned to do it a
long time ago, and we have always done it since."
"That sounds as if there might be a story about it," said the little
boy, who was always on the watch for stories.
"Well," said Mother Mit-chee, "there is a story about it."