His first thought was that he had been shot at. But just then a cloud of blackbirds rose from the corn, and the feet he had heard approaching rushed towards them. He kept perfectly still, and saw a boy about his own size run past him, between two rows of corn, not a rod off. The young hunter might easily have discovered Jack sitting there beside the scarecrow, if he had not been so intent on picking up his blackbirds.
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SOON Jack heard the gun in another part of the field; then a quarter of a mile off; then faintly in the far distance. Then the blackbirds came back again.
“Now,” said Jack, “I’ll see what I can do for breakfast.”
He put on his coat, filled his pockets with roasting ears, and returned towards the stump-lot where he had seen the smoking log-heaps. He had not gone far when he saw something black hop along the ground before him. It was a wounded blackbird. He gave chase, picked up a dead bird by the way, caught and killed the first, and dressed both with his jack-knife. They were plump and fat.
“Some folks think blackbirds ain’t good to eat,” said he, “but I am going to try ’em.”
Cautiously emerging from the cornfield, he crossed the road, and got over into the clearing. There he found the spring at which he had drank before, and, having drank again, he washed his hands and face and prepared his birds for roasting. He now sought out one of the half-burnt log-heaps, and, crouching beside it, opened a bed of glowing coals with a green branch which he used as a poker. A part of the branch he whittled into a spit for his birds, and then proceeded to cook his breakfast.
He burnt the corn, and likewise his fingers a little, and more than once a bird dropped from the spit into the fire; but he didn’t mind these slight mishaps. His appetite was good, and, everything being ready at last, he made a delicious meal without salt. How sweet the roasted corn was! And he laughed at the foolish prejudice of some ignorant people against the flesh of blackbirds, as he sucked the tender bones and tossed them into the fire.
All this time he kept a wary watch for intruders; and now he was not pleased to see over his shoulder a man crossing the stump-lot. He moved at a sauntering pace, and stooped now and then to examine objects on the ground; and Jack noticed that once or twice he appeared to put something into a little bag he carried in his hand.