blossoming shrub, or a bird singing on a tree-branch.

In spite of all this, however, David so evidently did his best to
carry out the "dos" and avoid the "don'ts," that at four o'clock
that first Monday he won from the stern but would-be-just Farmer
Holly his freedom for the rest of the day; and very gayly he set
off for a walk. He went without his violin, as there was the
smell of rain in the air; but his face and his step and the very
swing of his arms were singing (to David) the joyous song of the
morning before. Even yet, in spite of the vicissitudes of the
day's work, the whole world, to David's homesick, lonely little
heart, was still caroling that blessed "You're wanted, you're
wanted, you're wanted!"

And then he saw the crow.

David knew crows. In his home on the mountain he had had several
of them for friends. He had learned to know and answer their
calls. He had learned to admire their wisdom and to respect their
moods and tempers. He loved to watch them. Especially he loved to
see the great birds cut through the air with a wide sweep of
wings, so alive, so gloriously free!

But this crow--

This crow was not cutting through the air with a wide sweep of
wing. It was in the middle of a cornfield, and it was rising and
falling and flopping about in a most extraordinary fashion. Very
soon David, running toward it, saw why. By a long leather strip
it was fastened securely to a stake in the ground.