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 wings against the boards with a great noise, but all to no purpose. They all knew too well the meaning of those pathetic peeps that grew fainter and fainter, until all was still.

When I arrived at the henhouse, the commotion had stopped, and many of the hens had gone back to the roost; but Sir Cock-a-doodle and Old Speck still stood in the corner. When by the light of my lantern I discovered a few small black feathers and a drop of blood upon the dirt, I did not need to search further; the sad end of the Peep was only too apparent.

I filled the hole with dirt, and went sorrowfully back to bed, thinking how we should miss his shrill peeping on the morrow. "How lonely it is without him!" said Old Speck to Sir Cock-a-doodle, the next night upon the roost.

"Did you notice how my voice broke to-day?" returned that worthy. "I could scarcely crow; he was a chicken after my own heart, and would have made a fine cock; but alas, the good die young."