But there's been talk of
this many times before without anything coming of it. And that draining
business is a matter in which I take no stock whatever. For how would it
go with the game if Takern were laid waste. You're a donkey to gloat
over a thing like that. What will you and I have to amuse ourselves
with, when there are no more birds on Takern?"
THE DECOY-DUCK
_Sunday, April seventeenth_.
A couple of days later Jarro was so well that he could fly all about the
house. Then he was petted a good deal by the mistress, and the little
boy ran out in the yard and plucked the first grass-blades for him which
had sprung up. When the mistress caressed him, Jarro thought that,
although he was now so strong that he could fly down to Takern at any
time, he shouldn't care to be separated from the human beings. He had no
objection to remaining with them all his life.
But early one morning the mistress placed a halter, or noose, over
Jarro, which prevented him from using his wings, and then she turned him
over to the farm-hand who had found him in the yard. The farm-hand poked
him under his arm, and went down to Takern with him.
The ice had melted away while Jarro had been ill. The old, dry fall
leaves still stood along the shores and islets, but all the
water-growths had begun to take root down in the deep; and the green
stems had already reached the surface.
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