But Mother Wyandotte had called to her children. She opened her wings and
under them quickly in fright they ran, all huddling together. Her wings
hardly seemed large enough to cover them all, but she took them all in,
every one of her children.

She was a nervous old thing, but she was a good mother, and good mother
hens, good animal mothers, and our own mothers too, never seem to think of
themselves when there is danger around. They just look out for their little
ones.

"Robber Hawk, robber! Shan't touch 'em--robber!" she said.

Then--quick as a wink--there was another loud noise, just like that day
when Jim Crow fell in the cornfield.

"Bang, bang!"

Jehosophat, Marmaduke and Hepzebiah jumped.

They looked around.

There stood the Toyman with the gun at his shoulder.

Little puffs of smoke like white feathers floated away from the muzzles of
the gun.

"Winged him, anyway!" cried the Toyman.

They looked up.