Why do you think I was driving that bird ?" she added quickly.

"That was Hans, the bird that hates Bonaparte.

I let him out this afternoon; I thought he would chase him and perhaps kill him." The boy showed no sign of interest.
"He did not catch him; but he put his head over the half-door of your cabin and frightened him horribly.

He was there, busy stealing your things.

Perhaps he will leave them alone now; but I wish the bird had trodden on him." They said no more till they reached the door of the cabin.
"There is a candle and supper on the table.