“Then he cocked his head down and took another look; he glances up perfectly joyful, this time; winks his wings and his tail both, and says, ’Oh, no, this ain’t no fat thing, I reckon!  If I ain’t in luck! —­Why it’s a perfectly elegant hole!’ So he flew down and got that acorn, and fetched it up and dropped it in, and was just tilting his head back, with the heavenliest smile on his face, when all of a sudden he was paralyzed into a listening attitude and that smile faded gradually out of his countenance like breath off’n a razor, and the queerest look of surprise took its place.  Then he says, ’Why, I didn’t hear it fall!’ He cocked his eye at the hole again, and took a long look; raised up and shook his head; stepped around to the other side of the hole and took another look from that side; shook his head again.  He studied a while, then he just went into the Details —­walked round and round the hole and spied into it from every point of the compass.  No use.  Now he took a thinking attitude on the comb of the roof and scratched the back of his head with his right foot a minute, and finally says, ’Well, it’s too many for me, that’s certain; must be a mighty long hole; however, I ain’t got no time to fool around here, I got to “tend to business”; I reckon it’s all right—­chance it, anyway.’

“So he flew off and fetched another acorn and dropped it in, and tried to flirt his eye to the hole quick enough to see what become of it, but he was too late.  He held his eye there as much as a minute; then he raised up and sighed, and says, ’Confound it, I don’t seem to understand this thing, no way; however, I’ll tackle her again.’  He fetched another acorn, and done his level best to see what become of it, but he couldn’t.  He says, ’Well, I never struck no such a hole as this before; I’m of the opinion it’s a totally new kind of a hole.’  Then he begun to get mad.  He held in for a spell, walking up and down the comb of the roof and shaking his head and muttering to himself; but his feelings got the upper hand of him, presently, and he broke loose and cussed himself black in the face.  I never see a bird take on so about a little thing.  When he got through he walks to the hole and looks in again for half a minute; then he says, ’Well, you’re a long hole, and a deep hole, and a mighty singular hole altogether—­but I’ve started in to fill you, and I’m damned if I don’t fill you, if it takes a hundred years!’

“And with that, away he went.  You never see a bird work so since you was born.  He laid into his work like a nigger, and the way he hove acorns into that hole for about two hours and a half was one of the most exciting and astonishing spectacles I ever struck.  He never stopped to take a look anymore—­he just hove ’em in and went for more.  Well, at last he could hardly flop his wings, he was so tuckered out.  He comes a-dropping down, once more, sweating like an ice-pitcher, dropped his acorn in and says, ‘now I guess I’ve got the bulge on you by this time!’ So he bent down for a look.  If you’ll believe me, when his head come up again he was just pale with rage.  He says, ’I’ve shoveled acorns enough in there to keep the family thirty years, and if I can see a sign of one of ’em I wish I may land in a museum with a belly full of sawdust in two minutes!’