The cockatoo was on the top of a fir-tree, and a fragment of the chain was with him, for he had broken it, and below on the lawn stood the little ladies, who, with the unfailing courage of women in a hopeless cause, were trying to dislodge him by waving their pocket-handkerchiefs and crying “sh!”

He looked composedly down out of one eye for some time, and then he began to move.

“I think it’s coming down now,” said Miss Kitty.

But in a quarter of a minute, Cocky had sailed a quarter of a mile, and was rocking himself on the top of an old willow-tree.  And at this moment John Broom joined the crowd which followed him.

“I’m thinking he’s got his chain fast,” said the farm-bailiff; “if onybody that understood the beastie daured to get near him——­”

“I’ll get him,” said John Broom, casting down his hat.

“Ye’ll get yer neck thrawed,” said the farm-bailiff.

“We won’t hear of it,” said the little ladies.

But to their horror, John Broom kicked off his shoes, after which he spat upon his hands (a shock which Miss Kitty thought she never could have survived), and away he went up the willow.

It was not an easy tree to climb, and he had one or two narrow escapes, which kept the crowd breathless, but he shook the hair from his eyes, moistened his hands afresh, and went on.  The farm-bailiff’s far-away heart was stirred.  No Scotchman is insensible to gallantry.  And courage is the only thing a “canny” Scot can bear to see expended without return.

“John Broom,” screamed Miss Betty, “come down!  I order, I command you to come down.”

The farm-bailiff drew his speckled hat forward to shade his upward gaze, and folded his arms.

“Dinna call on him, leddies,” he said, speaking more quickly than usual.  “Dinna mak him turn his head.  Steady, lad!  Grip wi’ your feet.  Spit on your pawms, man.”

Once the boy trod on a rotten branch, and as he drew back his foot, and it came crashing down, the farm-bailiff set his teeth, and Miss Kitty fainted in Thomasina’s arms.

“I’ll reward anyone who’ll fetch him down,” sobbed Miss Betty.  But John Broom seated himself on the same branch as the cockatoo, and undid the chain and prepared his hands for the downward journey.

“You’ve got a rare perch, this time,” said he.  And Pretty Cocky crept towards him, and rubbed its head against him and chuckled with joy.

What dreams of liberty in the tree tops, with John Broom for a playfellow, passed through his crested head, who shall say?  But when he found that his friend meant to take him prisoner, he became very angry and much alarmed.  And when John Broom grasped him by both legs and began to descend, Cocky pecked him vigorously.  But the boy held the back of his head towards him, and went steadily down.

“Weel done!” roared the farm-bailiff.  “Gently, lad!  Gude save us! ha’e a care o’ yoursen.  That’s weel.  Keep your pow at him.  Dinna let the beast get to your een.”