"What's that loud cheeping noise?" Agony asked almost as soon as they
had entered into the deep shadow of the high pines.

"Sounds like a bird in trouble," answered Mary, her practised ear
recognizing the note of distress in the incessant twittering.

A few steps farther they came upon a man sitting in a wheel chair under
one of the tallest pines they had ever seen, a man whose right foot was
so thickly wrapped in bandages that it was three times the size of the
other one. He was peering intently up into the tree above him, and did
not notice the approach of the two girls. Mary and Agony followed his
gaze and saw, high up among the topmost swaying branches, a sight that
thrilled them with pity and distress. Dangling by a string which was
tangled about one of her feet, hung a mother robin, desperately
struggling to get free, fluttering, fluttering, beating the air
frantically with her wings and uttering piercing cries of anguish that
drove the hearers almost to desperation. Nearby was her nest, and on
the edge of it sat the mate, uttering cries as shrill with anguish as
those of the helpless captive.

"Oh, the poor, poor bird!" cried Mary, her eyes filling with tears of
pity and grief. At the sound of her voice the man in the wheel chair
lowered his eyes and became aware of the girls' presence. As he turned
to look at them Mary caught in his eyes a look of infinite horror and
pity at the plight of the wretched bird above him. That expression
deepened Mary's emotion; the tears began to run down her cheeks. Agony
stood beside her stricken and silent.

"How did it happen?" Mary asked huskily, addressing the stranger
unceremoniously.