"I don't know exactly," replied the man. "I was sitting here reading
when all of a sudden I heard the bird's shrill cry of distress and
looked up to see her dangling there at the end of that string."

"Can't we do something?" asked Mary, putting her hands over her ears to
shut out the piercing cries. "She'll flutter herself to death before
long."

"I'm afraid she will," replied the man, "There doesn't seem to be any
hope of her freeing herself."

"She shan't flutter herself to death," said Mary, with sudden
resolution. "I'm going to climb the tree and cut her loose."

"That will be impossible," said the man. "She is up in the very top of
the tree."

"I'm going to try, anyway," replied Mary, with spirit. "Let me take
your knife, will you please, Agony?"

The lowest branches of the pine were far above her head, and in order to
get a foothold in them Mary had to climb a neighboring tree and swing
herself across. The ground seemed terrifying far away even from this
lowest branch; but this was only the beginning. She resolutely refrained
from looking down and kept on steadily, branch above branch, until she
reached the one from which the robin hung. Then began the most perilous
part of the undertaking. To reach the bird she must crawl out on this
branch for a distance of at least six feet, there being no limb directly
underneath for her to walk out on. Praying for a steady balance, she