THE BLACKBIRD [_Looking after them among the branches, and later in the blue space over the valley._] They are calling one another! VOICE IN THE DISTANCE Scops! THE BLACKBIRD [_Bending over the valley, where the dark wings are dwindling and fading._] They wheel--waver--dip-- VOICES [_Dying in the distance._] Owl of the Wall! Of the Belfry! Of the Yew! THE BLACKBIRD Gone! [_He looks about, gives a hop, and with an immediate return to levity._] But it’s supper-time.--Now for a bite of cold grasshopper! [_The_ PHEASANT-HEN _suddenly flies over the brushwood tangle, dropping beside him._] You! SCENE SECOND THE BLACKBIRD, THE PHEASANT-HEN, _later_ CHANTECLER THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Panting, tragically earnest._] I ran all the way.--You were there.--Oh, I am half dead with terror!--Well you must have overheard their dreadful secret! You, his friend! THE BLACKBIRD [_Cheerfully rummaging among the moss._] Or the thigh of a katydid will do. THE PHEASANT-HEN I was watching from a distance. I crouched in a ditch--[_In an anguished voice._] Well? THE BLACKBIRD [_In genuine surprise._] Well, what? THE PHEASANT-HEN Their conspiracy-- THE BLACKBIRD [_Calmly._] It all went off very nicely. THE PHEASANT-HEN What do you mean? THE BLACKBIRD The shadow was a correct and appropriate blue, and the Owls said perfectly characteristic things. THE PHEASANT-HEN [_In wild alarm._] Heavens, they plotted his death? THE BLACKBIRD His decease, which is not nearly so bad. THE PHEASANT-HEN But-- THE BLACKBIRD Don’t smite your brow! In spite of the Screech-Owl’s grave and self-important tone, I shouldn’t wonder if it all amounted to very little. THE PHEASANT-HEN Those Owls-- THE BLACKBIRD Are good enough in their various parts, but it’s the old excessive style of acting. THE PHEASANT-HEN I beg your pardon? THE BLACKBIRD Back numbers! THE PHEASANT-HEN Oh? THE BLACKBIRD They have eyelashes, fancy, all the way round their eyes! It’s too much of a good thing, really.--And that black plot, those desperately dark designs, all that belongs to the year one; you can see moss growing on its back! THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Fluttering hither and thither feverishly._] I am never quite sure of understanding when a person is talking in fun. THE BLACKBIRD [_Winking at her._] No flies on your acting! THE PHEASANT-HEN Surely you wouldn’t be laughing if he were in danger? Those ruffians--? THE BLACKBIRD Prattlers! Wooden Swords! Knights of Hot Air! THE PHEASANT-HEN But Scops--? THE BLACKBIRD A stuffed Owl! THE PHEASANT-HEN And the Great Bubo--? THE BLACKBIRD Just two ten-candle-power lamps, to be turned on and off with a switch,--crick-crack! And Flammeolus, two lamps likewise--but acetylene! THE PHEASANT-HEN [_Bewildered by his imagery._] And so--? THE BLACKBIRD No, trembling Gypsy, there’s not enough in this great plot to choke a flea withal! THE PHEASANT-HEN Truly? I have been so horribly afraid--