Bending down Sherm parted the weeds and grasses cautiously. "Here's another--and another. We must hunt them, Chicken Little, and take them home or they will all starve. Gee, what can we put them in?" Jane slipped her hat elastic from under her braid, and taking a handful of long grass to line it with, soon made a snug nest. They tucked the mottled downy bunches into it. "What in Sam Hill are you people doing over there?" called Ernest. "Little grouse--come help us find them," Sherm called back. "Be careful now or you'll step on them," he warned as Ernest and the girls came running up. "They are the slyest little codgers--you don't see them until you are right on them." Gertie was on her knees peering before the words were out of his mouth. She lifted a fourth mite from its hiding place, and a fifth, and a sixth, almost as fast as she could pick them up. "Oh, aren't they dear? May I hold them, Jane, when we get back to the wagon?" Gertie was caressing them with hands and eyes. There were ten chicks cuddled in the hat, when after a thorough search of the weeds, Ernest announced that they must surely have them all. But to make sure they went over the ground in all directions once more. Jane was very sober. Sherm tried to cheer her. "You couldn't help it, Chicken Little. You didn't mean to." Sherm smiled his funny smile as he said this. "Why are you smiling? Oh, I know--I believe so, too." "What secrets are you talking?" Katy was curious. "Yes, speak United States, it isn't polite to leave your guests in the dark this way," growled Ernest. Jane haughtily declined to explain just then. When they returned to the wagon, they found the Captain as much interested in the shot, as he was in the prairie chicks. "That was really a wonderful hit, little girl. I congratulate you." Jane stole a glance at Sherm. He wasn't looking at her, but he was smiling. Jane smiled, too. "Yes, Captain Clarke," she replied demurely, "it was rather astonishing." This was too much for Sherm who chuckled openly. Captain Clarke looked from one to the other inquiringly. The others were completely mystified. "Well, I'd just like to know what you two are up to." Katy wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Can't a fellow laugh without having to give an account of himself?" Sherm parried, still trying to stave off the mirth that possessed him. Chicken Little's face was sweetly sober. "He's appreciating my--skill--the rest of you don't seem to realize what a feat----" A sound, something between a crow and a suppressed steam whistle interrupted her. Sherm whooped until he was red in the face. Chicken Little regarded him reproachfully, but continued: "You see most anybody can hit the chicken they aim at, but it takes a fine shot to hit one you didn't know was there." She grinned mischievously up at the Captain who grinned back delightedly. "Really, Chicken Little?" "Really." She joined in the general laugh.