While the rest of us did not make so much noise at our work, we were equally diligent in picking off the larvae and borers that ruined the trees, and on a full crop we enjoyed the consciousness of having aided mankind.
On several occasions I had seen our enemy, the cat, slinking stealthily on his padded feet from the direction of the great brick house which stood on the edge of the orchard.

Crouched in a furrow he would gaze upward at us so steadily and for so long a time without so much as a wink or a blink of his green eyes, that it seemed he must injure its muscles.

Aside from the many frights he gave us it is sad to relate that he succeeded before many days in getting away with one of our number.

One morning he crept softly up to a young robin which had flown down in the grass, but had not sufficient power to rise quickly, and before the unsuspecting little creature realized its danger, the cat arched his back, gave a spring, and seized it.

A moment later he softly trotted out of the orchard with the poor bird in his mouth and doubtless made a dainty dinner in the barn off our unfortunate comrade.
This incident cast a deep gloom over us, and our songs for many days held a mournful note.
But while cats were unwelcome visitors from the great brick house, we sometimes had others whom we were always glad to see.