When Kingfisher first came to Birdland, he dug a long, narrow tunnel in the sand bank near the creek, and at the end of it he built himself a large room which served him as a home, for he was afraid to remain out of doors all night. Of course, this queer dwelling caused much wonderment, and, more than that, it suggested to the birds a way of frightening Kingfisher. What fun it would be to have him try to scold them in his broken language! Accordingly, Song Sparrow, Marsh Wren, and Blackbird went in a body to visit Muskrat--a great, lazy fellow, who might always be found loafing about the banks of the stream. What their plan was no one overheard, for they spoke in very low tones. At the end of the consultation Muskrat was seen to climb the bank near Kingfisher’s dwelling. After a moment or two, to make sure that Kingfisher was out, he crept quietly to the entrance and disappeared within. Then all the birds along the creek and from the woods gathered in the neighboring bushes to await Kingfisher’s arrival. They had a long wait, for he had gone far in search of his dinner. But, at length, Catbird spied the sturdy form wending its way up stream. Breathless with anticipation, the birds hid in the undergrowth just as Kingfisher took his favorite perch in the dead willow. Here he spent much time in arranging his plumage, a performance which greatly aggravated the birds in hiding. But at last, even this was over, and everybody in the thicket gave a start of expectancy as Kingfisher, after a wary look about, launched himself from the dead limb. Then, as he entered the hole where, unknown to him, Muskrat was hiding, each one held his breath. But surely the listeners were not prepared for such a sound as greeted their ears. With a terrified rattle which no one had ever heard before, Kingfisher shot out of the hole and bolted down stream. He looked neither to the right nor left, nor, indeed, did he even see the birds on either side of him. His ears were wide open and every feather of his head stood on end. To tell the simple truth, he was frightened out of his wits. Many of the birds were sorry for their prank when they saw how frightened Kingfisher was, but many also enjoyed it. Cuckoo, from the willow, kept calling after Kingfisher, “Coward, coward, coward, coward!” And, of course, Chewink, as he hops from limb to limb, with his usual quick temper wanted to know to whom Cuckoo referred, and called in a challenging voice, “To me? to me? to me?”