whole neighborhood. I was quick to respond, and they soon learned to
ring the bell before coming to the surface; in fact, if they saw me
pass, I always heard their welcome greeting. But to return to the
minnows.

I generally fed them first, about twenty feet up the bank; but one
morning I found one or two had followed me down to the residence of
the stickleback family. They met with a rude reception, however, and,
to avoid making trouble, the next day I went to the willow first. But
no sooner had the bell begun to ring, than I saw a lot of ripples
coming down, and in a second the two factions were in mortal combat.
The sticklebacks were fighting not only for breakfast, but for their
nests, which were near by; and they made sad work of the poor minnows,
who, though smart in some things, did not know when they were whipped,
and so kept up the fight, though losing one of their number nearly
every morning. The bell now and then rang violently, but I fear it was
only sounding an appeal from a voracious stickleback whose appetite
had got the better of his rage.

So it went on every morning. The minnows had learned what the bell
meant, and though usually defeated in the fight, they in reality had
their betters as servants to ring the bell and call them to meals.
Finally, they succeeded, by force of great numbers, in driving away
their pugnacious little rivals, and the bell hung silent; for, strange
to say, they knew what the sound meant, but I could never teach them
to ring it, when they could rise and steal the worm from my hand
without. But I am inclined to think it was more laziness than
inability to learn, as they afterward picked up readily some much more
difficult tricks. I taught them to leap from the water into my hand,
and lie as if dead; and having arranged a slide of polished wood upon