Among the Night People, Page 2

  THE BLACK SPANISH CHICKENS

  When the Speckled Hen wanted to sit there was no use in trying to talkher out of the idea, for she was a very set Hen. So, after the farmer'swife had worked and worked, and barred her out of first onenesting-place and then another, she gave up to the Speckled Hen andfixed her a fine nest and put thirteen eggs into it. They were BlackSpanish eggs, but the Speckled Hen did not know that. The Hens that hadlaid them could not bear to sit, so, unless some other Hen did the workwhich they left undone, there would have been no Black Spanish Chickens.This is always their way, and people have grown used to it. Now nobodythinks of asking a Black Spanish Hen to sit, although it does not seemright that a Hen should be unwilling to bring up chickens. Supposingnobody had been willing to bring her up?

  Still, the Black Spanish Hens talk very reasonably about it. "We willlay plenty of eggs," they say, "but some of the common Hens must hatchthem." They do their share of the farmyard work, only they insist onchoosing what that share shall be.

  When the Speckled Hen came off the nest with eleven Black Chickens (twoof the eggs did not hatch), she was not altogether happy. "I wanted themto be speckled," said she, "and not one of the whole brood is." That waswhy she grew so restless and discontented in her coop, although it wasroomy and clean and she had plenty given her to eat and drink. She wasquite happy only when they were safely under her wings at night. Andsuch a time as they always had getting settled!

  When the sunbeams came more and more slantingly through the trees, theChickens felt less and less like running around. Their tiny legs weretired and they liked to cuddle down on the grass in the shadow of thecoop. Then the Speckled Hen often clucked to them to come in and rest,but they liked it better in the open air. The Speckled Hen would alsohave liked to be out of the coop, yet the farmer kept her in. He knewwhat was best for Hens with little Chickens, and also what was best forthe tender young lettuce and radishes in his garden.

  When the sun was nearly down, the Speckled Hen clucked her come-to-bedcluck, which was quite different from her food cluck or her Hawk cluck,and the little Black Chickens ran between the bars and crawled under herfeathers. Then the Speckled Hen began to look fatter and fatter andfatter for each Chicken who nestled beneath her. Sometimes one littlefellow would scramble up on to her back and stand there, while sheturned her head from side to side, looking at him with first one andthen the other of her round yellow eyes, and scolding him all the time.It never did any good to scold, but she said she had to do something,and with ten other children under her wings it would never do for her tostand up and tumble him off.

  All the time that they were getting settled for the night the Chickenswere talking in sleepy little cheeps, and now and then one of them wouldpoke his head out between the feathers and tell the Speckled Hen thatsomebody was pushing him. Then she would be more puzzled than ever andcluck louder still. Sometimes, too, the Chickens would run out foranother mouthful of cornmeal mush or a few more drops of water. Therewas one little fellow who always wanted something to drink just when heshould have been going to sleep. The Speckled Hen used to say that ittook longer for a mouthful of water to run down his throat than it wouldfor her to drink the whole panful. Of course it did take quite a while,because he couldn't hurry it by swallowing. He had to drink, as allbirds do, by filling his beak with water and then holding it up untilthe last drop had trickled down into his stomach.

  When the whole eleven were at last safely tucked away for the night, theSpeckled Hen was tired but happy. "They are good children," she oftensaid to herself, "if they are Black Spanish. They might be just asmischievous if they were speckled; still, I do wish that thosestylish-looking, white-eared Black Spanish Hens would raise their ownbroods. I don't like to be hatch-mother to other Hens' chickens." Thenshe would slide her eyelids over her eyes, and doze off, and dream thatthey were all speckled like herself.

  There came a day when the coop was raised and they were free to go wherethey chose. There was a fence around the vegetable garden now andnetting around the flower-beds, but there were other lovely places forscratching up food, for nipping off tender young green things, forpicking up the fine gravel which every Chicken needs, and for wallowingin the dust. Then the Black Spanish Chickens became acquainted with theother fowls whom they had never met before. They were rather afraid ofthe Shanghai Cock because he had such a gruff way of speaking, and theyliked the Dorkings, yet the ones they watched and admired and talkedmost about were the Black Spanish Cock and Hen. There were many fowls onthe farm who did not have family names, and the Speckled Hen was one ofthese. They had been there longer than the rest and did not really likehaving new people come to live in the poultry-yard. It was trying, too,when the older Hens had to hatch the eggs laid by the newcomers.

  THEY WERE FREE TO GO WHERE THEY CHOSE. _Page 6_]

  It is said that this was what made the Speckled Hen leave the elevenlittle Black Spanish Chickens after she had been out of the coop for awhile. They had been very mischievous and disobedient one day, and shewalked off and left them to care for themselves while she started toraise a family of her own in a stolen nest under the straw-stack.

  When night came, eleven little Black Spanish Chickens did not know whatto do. They went to look for their old coop, but that had been given toanother Hen and her family. They walked around looking very small andlonely, and wished they had minded the Speckled Hen and made her lovethem more. At last they found an old potato-crate which reminded them ofa coop and so seemed rather homelike. It stood, top down, upon theground and they were too big to crawl through its barred sides, so theydid the best they could and huddled together on top of it. If there hadnot been a stone-heap near, they could not have done that, for theirwing-feathers were not yet large enough to help them flutter. Thebravest Chicken went first, picking his way from stone to stone until hereached the highest one, balancing himself awhile on that, stretchinghis neck toward the potato-crate, looking at it as though he were aboutto jump, and then seeming to change his mind and decide not do so afterall.

  The Chickens on the ground said he was afraid, and he said he wasn't anymore afraid than they were. Then, after a while, he did jump, a queer,floppy, squawky kind of jump, but it landed him where he wanted to be.After that it was his turn to laugh at the others while they stoodteetering uncertainly on the top stone. They were very lonely withoutthe Speckled Hen, and each Chicken wanted to be in the middle of thegroup so that he could have others to keep him warm on all sides.

  Somebody laughed at the most mischievous Chicken and told him he couldstand on the potato-crate's back without being scolded, and he poutedhis bill and said: "Much fun that would be! All I cared about standingon the Speckled Hen's back was to make her scold." It is very shockingthat he should say such things, but he did say exactly that.

  They slept safely that night, and only awakened when the Cocks crowed alittle while after midnight. After that they slept until sunrise, andwhen the Shanghais and Dorkings came down from the apple-tree wherethey had been roosting, the Black Spanish Chickens stirred and cheeped,and looked at their feathers to see how much they had grown during thenight. Then they pushed and squabbled for their breakfast.

  Every night they came back to sleep on the potato-crate. At last theywere able to spring up into their places without standing on thestone-pile, and that was a great day. They talked about it long afterthey should have been asleep, and were still chattering when theShanghai Cock spoke: "If you Black Spanish Chickens don't keep still andlet us sleep," said he, "some Owl or Weasel will come for you, and Ishall be glad to have him!"

  That scared the Chickens and they were very quiet. It made the BlackSpanish Hen uneasy though, and she whispered to the Black Spanish Cockand wouldn't let him sleep until he had promised to fight anybody whomight try to carry one of the Chickens away from the potato-crate.

  The next night first one Chicken and then another kept tumbling off thepotato-crate. They lost their patience and said such things as these toeach other:

>   "You pushed me! You know you did!"

  "Well, he pushed me!"

  "Didn't either!"

  "Did too!"

  "Well, I couldn't help it if I did!"

  The Shanghai Cock became exceedingly cross because they made so muchnoise, and even the Black Spanish Cock lost his patience. "You may be mychildren," said he, "but you do not take your manners from me. Is thereno other place on this farm where you can sleep excepting that oldcrate?"

  "We want to sleep here," answered the Chicken on the ground. "There isplenty of room if those fellows wouldn't push." Then he flew up andclung and pushed until some other Chicken tumbled off.

  "Well!" said the Black Spanish Cock. And he would have said much more ifthe Black Spanish Hen had not fluttered down from the apple-tree to seewhat was the matter. When he saw the expression of her eyes he decidedto go back to his perch.

  "There is not room for you all," said the Black Spanish Hen. "One mustsleep somewhere else."

  "There _is_ room," said the Chickens, contradicting her. "We have alwaysroosted on here."

  "There is _not_ room," said the Black Spanish Hen once more. "How doyour feathers grow?"

  "Finely," said they.

  "And your feet?"

  "They are getting very big," was the answer.

  "Do you think the Speckled Hen could cover you all with her wings if shewere to try it now?"

  The Chickens looked at each other and laughed. They thought it wouldtake three Speckled Hens to cover them.

  "But she used to," said the Black Spanish Hen. She did not say anythingmore. She just looked at the potato-crate and at them and at thepotato-crate again. Then she walked off.

  After a while one of the Chickens said: "I guess perhaps there isn'troom for us all there."

  The mischievous one said: "If you little Chickens want to roost thereyou may. I am too large for that sort of thing." Then he walked up theslanting board to the apple-tree branch and perched there beside theyoung Shanghais. You should have seen how beautifully he did it. Histoes hooked themselves around the branch as though he had always perchedthere, and he tucked his head under his wing with quite an air. Beforelong his brothers and sisters came also, and heard him saying to one ofhis new neighbors, "Oh, yes, I much prefer apple-trees, but when I was aChicken I used to sleep on a potato-crate."

  "Just listen to him!" whispered the Black Spanish Cock. "And he hasn't atail-feather worth mentioning!"

  "Never mind," answered the Black Spanish Hen. "Let them play that theyare grown up if they want to. They will be soon enough." She sighed asshe put her head under her wing and settled down for the night. It madeher feel old to see her children roosting in a tree.