Веснянки

           Ithadbeencutthreefeetfromtheground,overthree-fourthsofthewaythrough,andhadfallentowardtheeast,thebodyofthelogstillrestingonthestump.Theunderbrushwasalmostimpenetrable,butDuncanplungedinandwithacrowbarbegantappingalongthetrunktodecidehowfaritwashollow,sothattheywouldknowwheretocut.Astheywaitedhisdecision,therecamefromthemouthofit—onwings—alargeblackbirdthatsweptovertheirheads.

           Frecklesdancedwildly.“It’smechickens!Oh,it’smechickens!”heshouted.“Oh,Duncan,comequick!You’vefoundthenestofmepreciouschickens!”

           Duncanhurriedtothemouthofthelog,butFreckleswasbeforehim.Hecrashedthroughpoison-vinesandunderbrushregardlessofanydanger,andclimbedonthestump.WhenDuncancamehewasshoutinglikeawildman.

           “It’shatched!”heyelled.“Oh,mebigchickenhashatchedoutmelittlechicken,andthere’sanotheregg.Icanseeitplain,andoh,thefunnylittlewhitebaby!Oh,Duncan,canyouseemelittlewhitechicken?”

           Duncancouldeasilyseeit;socouldeveryoneelse.Frecklescreptintothelogandtenderlycarriedthehissing,blinkinglittlebirdtothelightinaleaf-linedhat.ThemenfounditsufficientlywonderfultosatisfyevenFreckles,whohadforgottenhewaseversoreorstiff,andcoddledoveritwitheveryblarneyingtermofendearmentheknew.

           Duncangatheredhistools.“Deal’soff,boys!”hesaidcheerfully.“ThislogmaunabetoucheduntilFreckles’chaukieshavefinishedwithit.Wemightasweelgang.Betterputitback,Freckles.