By this time we had almost reached the woods, and had climbed up on a fence to rest, and watch Diddle.
We had not sat there long, before _bang_! went a gun just behind us. We had been so still, and the report was so sudden and so near, that we were nigh tumbling off the fence from the shock. We turned around just in time to see a flock of blackbirds rise out of the woods like a drift of black leaves carried up by a swoop of wind. At first they rose almost straight up into the air, and then swept away over the school-house, directly toward our kite, which they soon hid from our sight entirely.
Some minutes passed before we got sight of poor Diddle again, and very soon after we decided that it was time to get him down and go home. So I began to pull in the string, while the other boys took turns in winding it up.
Nearer and nearer he came; but just as his flaming nose began to show itself clearly, we noticed a black spot which seemed to be almost directly over it. We all wondered what this could be, for we knew it was not there when Diddle went up.
Faster and faster I pulled in the string, and nearer and nearer came the kite, when what should the spot be but a dear little _blackbird_, perched quietly on the upper rim of it! But what made him sit there? we wondered. Why didn't he fly away and join his companions, that were now just vanishing into the far distance? Nearer and nearer it came, to our very feet.--
One little crimson drop that had rolled down his glossy breast, and fallen upon Diddle's cheek, like a tear of blood, told the story. He had been shot.
Poor little bird! He had flown up with the others, and had tried to follow them; but, faint with pain and bleeding, he could not keep up, and so, as the flock was passing our kite, he had settled down upon that, hoping, may be, that the pain in his little breast would get better soon. But, alas! his gold and crimson wings were never again to beat the sunny air as he piped his blithe gossip to his dusky-winged mate: they were folded at his sides, and would be still for ever.
We did not say much to each other, and what we did say, was in a lower and softer tone than usual; for the piteous history of the little bird had touched our hearts.