He had also won many sharp
battles with certain young cocks in the neighbourhood, whom curiosity
about the tufted foreigners had attracted to the yard. The consequence
of these triumphs was that he held undisputed dominion as far as the
second fence from the farmyard, and whenever he shut his eyes and
sounded his war-clarion, the whole of his rivals made off as fast as
wings and legs could carry them.
So the five sat or stood by themselves in the yard, dozing in the
sunshine, and they felt bored.
During the middle of the day they had managed to get some winks of
sleep, but now the farmer's men began to thresh in a barn close by,
making noise enough to wake the dead, so there was small chance of
well-organized fowls being able to sleep through the din.
"I wish some one would tell a story," said one of the common hens, as
she ruffled all her feathers up on end, and then shook them straight
again, for coolness. "I am tired of scrabbling in the dust, and
fly-catching is an amusement only suited to sparrows and such vulgar
birds."
This was a hit at one of the foreign hens, who had wandered away a
little and was pecking at flies on the wall. The two common hens were
very fond of vexing the foreign ones, for their feelings were hurt at
being reckoned less beautiful and rare.
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