“Look, right here next to the glass,” said Adam, as he put his finger against the lower left-hand corner of the peep window, and there I directed my torch.  One of the great white pearls had a series of little holes around one end of it, and while I gazed a sharp little beak was thrust suddenly from within it.  The shell fell apart, and out stepped the first small Leghorn Bird with an assurance that had an undoubted resemblance to that of his masculine parent.  For a moment he blinked and balanced; then he stretched his small wings and shook himself, an operation that seemed to fluff about fifty per cent. of the moist aspect from his plump little body, and then he deliberately turned and looked into my wide-opened eyes.  I promptly gasped and sat down on the barn floor, with my head weakly cuddled against Adam’s knee.

“Two more here on the right-hand side, Woman,” said Adam, as he knelt beside me, took the torch, supported me in my reaction of astonishment, and showed me where a perfect little batch of babies was being born.  “Whew, Farmer Craddock, but those are fine chickens!  Heaven help us, but they are all exploding at one time!  Only eggs of one hundred per cent. vigor and fertility hatch that way.  Look at the moisture gathering on the glass.  If you put your hand in there you would find it about a hundred and ten.”

“Oh, look!  G. Bird Junior, the first, is almost dry.  Please, please let me take him in my hand!” I exclaimed as that five-minute-old baby pressed close up against the glass and blinked at the light and us bewitchingly.

“You mustn’t open the door for at least twelve hours now.  Come away before the temptation overcomes you,” commanded Pan.

“Wait twelve hours to take that fluff-ball in my hands?  Adam, you are cruel,” I said, as he pocketed the torch and left the drama of birth dark and without footlights.  As he padded away towards the moonlit barn-door, I followed him in reluctant protest.

“Do you see that tall pine outlined against the sky over there on Paradise Ridge, Woman?” asked Adam, with the Pan lights and laugh coming back into his farmer eyes and voice.  “I have got to be there an hour before dawn, and it is fifteen good miles or more.  I want to roll against a log somewhere and sleep a bit, and it is now after ten o’clock.  Go get your bundle, and I’ll hang it on my stick, and we will disappear into the forest forever.  I know a hermit who’ll put us in marriage bonds.  Come!” As he held out his arms Adam began to chant the weird tune to that mate song of his own invention.

“You know I can’t do that,” I said as I went into his embrace and drank the chant down into my heart.  “There are so many live things that I must stay to watch over.  I—­I’m their—­mother as well as—­as yours.  They must be fed.”

“God, there really is such a thing as a woman,” said Adam as he hid his smouldering eyes against my lips.  “You’ll be waiting when I come back, and you’ll go with me the minute I call, if it’s day or night?  You’ll be ready with your bundle?”