Poor No. Eight.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVII, Issue XXII, 30 November 1901, Page 1058

Poor No. Eight.

Tuk, tuk, tuk, tehah! Tuk, tuk tuk, tehah!”

Seven of the hens—there were eight altogether—made a rush forward as this sound greeted their ears, for each was anxious to receive the dainty morsel that their lord and master had found.

“It is no use my going,” said No. 8. as she looked rather sadly after the others; “he never gives me anything but pecks, and I think I’ve had nearly enough of those for to-day.” Poor No. 8! Her life was not a happy one, though any passer-bv would unhesitatingly have decided in his own mind that she lived in a very paradise.

Cool, green, wavy grass to stroll about in, a house fitted up with perches at all heights to sleep in, tall fruit trees overhead, laden with sweet scented blossom, fresh wafer every day, abundance of food, and company of her own kind.

Surely she must have been of an exceptionally bad disposition to be unhaPPy under these circumstances.

But she was not altogether to blame; she could not help being a little lame, for instance, or having an appearance as of moulting around her neck, any more than she could help her comb being such a very poor one. Sometimes she would look half enviously at her sisters as they strutted about, for their combs were so abnormally large that they drooped forward over their eyes, and wobbled about in the strangest manner; but after a minute she would come to the conclusion that perhaps she was the best off, after all, for at any rate she could see where she was going, which was certainly more than they could. “Ah,” she said to herself one day, “how happy I was in that little back yard, before we were taken away from mother and put to live here! Then we were all treated alike, and nobody thought about combs.” The fact was, that the cock ruled in that little domain. No sooner did he make his appearance in their midst than the hens all did their best to win his approval—except No. 8, who apparently took no interest in him whatever. Whether it was this indifference, or whether it was that she appeared so very inferior to her sisters, I cannot say, but the fact remains that that cock took a very violent dislike to her, and never lost an opportunity of giving her a violent peck in the back, an example which, from the first, was imitated by the seven devoted hens.

From her solitary corner she could see that the coek was telling the hens something particular, for he was perched up on a piece of brick, and his fine red comb was wobbling vigor-

A few scattered words came to her ears, for he was talking loudly. “This evening—adventure — caged up,” she heard quite plainly, and. drawing a little closer, she at last made out that he was tired of being cooped up there, and that he was going to escape in search of adventure.

All the hens loudly lamented his decision, but not one dared to suggest that he had much better not do such a foolish thing. No. 8 put her head on one side, and thought for some minutes.

“I wonder,” she said to herself, “if he knows that Rough, the terrier, is always turned loose towards evening; at least, I am sure he doesn’t, or he would never suggest such a thing as going out. I must go a-hd warn him.”

She started off across the grass to join the group, and then stopped short.

“What a lesson it would be for him,” she thought; “and serve him right, too!” she added, as she thought of all the vicious pecks he had given her.

For fully five minutes she wavered Then her mind was made up.

“I’ll warn him,” she said to herself. “Because he is horrid, it’s no reason why I should be horrid too.”

The eock looked scornfully down on her as she went up to him. and her voice trembled as she told him that it would not be safe for him to go out, because of the terrier.

“And you think I am afraid of a dog, do you?” he said angrily. “A miserable little animal that can no more fight than fly! Do you hear!” he exclaimed to the other hens. “She calls me a coward. Drive her off; peck her, peck her.” At this they all made a rush at her, and poor No. 8, hustled and peeked, retreated as fast as ever she could to her own special corner. An hour or two later she learned that the cock had successfully scaled the henhouse, and started on his travels, for the hens were all discussing it as they went to roost. Noor No. 8 felt very unhappy, and long after her sisters were all sound asleep, with their heads hidden under their wings, she still sat at the door of the henhouse, listening for any sound that might be the wanderer returning, for he said that he should be back to crow at daybreak. At last she fancied she heard him. and, peering through the netting, she beheld him strutting towards her. At the same moment there was a rush and a scamper through the bushes on the right, and, to her horror, No. 8 saw Rough, the terrier, dash at the terrified cock with a loud bark.

Then what a commotion there was. to be sure! What with the poor cock erowing loudly to the hens to come and help him, the seven hens, awakened by the noise, all crying, “I cuck, cuk, cuk, cuk —couldn’t! I cuk, cuk, cuk, cuk —couldn’t!” and Rough’s 'barking, it was absolutely deafening. How No. 8 managed it she never knew, but almost before she had time to think, she found herself over that division, and flying at Rough with all her might and main, pecking at his eyes, his nose, his ears, any part of him that she could reach. Her feathers flew in all directions, but she thought nothing of that; her one idea was to save the cock, and she battled on bravely, though her strength was fast ebbing away. Help was at hand, though. One of the farm hands, hearing the commotion, rushed to the spot, just in time to drag Rough away, as poor No. 8 fell fainting to the ground beside the cock whose life she had saved. Tender hands lifted her from the ground and bore her away, and for weeks she was not seen. Indeed, the cock and hens all wept for her, because they thought she was dead, and the cock was often heard to say_sadlv “It was all my fault; if only I had listened to her and not gone> out all would have been well ; and then the hens would chime in and say No. no; it was our fault; if we had been brave we should have helped her io fight, and then she would not have been killed.”

So each learned that it was a coura.<,eous and unselfish hen whom they had been so unkind to all their lives and had twitted for being ugly, and thev saw. too. how selfish and cowardly they had all 'been m treating her so badly and neglecting her. imagine their joy, then when one morning No. 8 came walking into their midst. She had been taken charge of by the farmer s daughter, and tenderly nursed back to and strength; new feathers had grown in the place of those she had lost, and no one, to look at - could have guessed how near she ha been to losing her life.

Great were the rejoicings over her return and No. 8 soon found herself installed as head of the little colony, and the favourite of all instead of the insignificant slighted and hen-pecked creature of former days. Even the cock became her devoted slave and would save the choice mor-

sels for her instead of eating them himself, while the hens would leave the nicest perch for her to roost on. and from that time all lived happily together without ever quarrelling or pecking, all because No. 8 had taught them to be unselfish. Winifred Fenn in “Little Folks.”