As the two boys walked off to the fir-copse, Frank told his friend that he meant to cut down the tree, but he would not tell him what it was that he wanted it for, and Jimmy's curiosity was provoked to a great degree. When they reached the wood they proceeded to the tree which Frank had marked, and Jimmy was sent up to fasten the rope to the top of it. Then while Frank took off his coat and applied the axe vigorously to the bottom of the tree, making the chips fly in all directions, Jimmy took the other end of the rope over the fence, and kept a steady pull upon it. At last the tree began to creak and groan, and then fell over with a crash. Jimmy then took the other axe, and the two began to lop off the branches. This was a long job, and when it was finished they were very warm and tired, and sat down to rest for a while on the fallen tree. A clicking and cracking sound in the wood about them now became audible to their quick ears. It might have been heard before had it not been drowned by the noise of the axes. They looked up, and to their great delight they saw a small flock of birds larger than a green linnet, and with plumage of red, brown, and yellow. They were flitting about the fir-trees, cutting off the fir-cones with their bills, and then holding them on the branches with their claws, and cracking them, and picking out the seeds, producing at the same time the noise which had attracted the attention of the boys. "What are they?" exclaimed Jimmy; "their beaks are hooked, and cross each other. I never saw birds like them before." "They are crossbills, as sure as we are here!" said Frank, excitedly. "Run to the boat-house as quick as you can, while I watch them, and bring the gun." Brett sped off like a deer, while Frank followed the movements of the strange birds with interest. Jimmy returned with the gun, and quite out of breath. "Now," said Frank, "from the difference in colour there are evidently males and females here, and we must get one of each; and we must do it without disturbing the others, as if we don't frighten them they may stay here and breed." They watched for some time before they could get the desired chance, and then two birds flew, toying with each other, to some distance from the rest. They were evidently male and female. Frank put the gun to his shoulder, a report rang through the wood, and both the crossbills, for such they were, fell dead to the ground. Frank might have shot many more, but he was a thorough naturalist, and, as such, he disliked the idea of indiscriminate and useless slaughter. He had procured specimens sufficient, and he humanely let the others go. "Now, Jimmy, we have got a prize. Crossbills are not seen every day. Let us go to the boat-house and skin them, and read something about them in our books."