TOM BROWN'S
Arthur laughed at the remembrance of the boomerang story, but then looked grave again, and said, "He'll convert all the island, I know."
"Yes, if he don't blow it up first."
"Do you remember, Tom, how you and East used to laugh at him and chaff him, because he said he was sure the rooks all had calling-overs or prayers, or something of the sort, when the locking-up bell rang? Well, I declare," said Arthur, looking up seriously into Tom's laughing eyes, "I do think he was right. Since I've been lying here I've watched them every night; and, do you know, they really do come and perch, all of them, just about locking-up time; and then first there's a regular chorus of caws, and then they stop a bit, and one old fellow, or perhaps two or three in different trees, caw solos, and then off they all go again, fluttering about and cawing anyhow till they roost."
"I wonder if the old blackies do talk?" said Tom, looking up at them. "How they must abuse me and East, and pray for the Doctor for stopping the slinging."
"There! look, look!" cried Arthur; "don't you see the old fellow without a tail coming up? Martin used to call him the 'clerk.' He can't steer himself. You never saw such fun as he is in a high wind, when he can't steer himself home, and gets carried right past the trees, and has to bear up again and again before he can perch."
The locking-up bell began to toll, and the two boys were silent, and listened to it. The sound soon carried Tom off to the river and the woods, and he began to go over in his mind the many occasions on which he had heard that toll coming faintly down the breeze, and had to pack up his rod in a hurry and make a run for it to get in before the gates were shut. He was roused with a start from his memories by Arthur's voice, gentle and weak from his late illness.
"Tom, will you be angry if I talk to you very seriously?"
"No, dear old boy, not I. But ain't you faint, Arthur, or ill?
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