At last it was nearly full. He put the cup to
his lips, and was about to drink.
All at once there was a whir-ring sound in the air, and the cup was
knocked from his hands. The water was all spilled upon the ground.
The king looked up to see who had done this thing. It was his pet
hawk.
The hawk flew back and forth a few times, and then alighted among the
rocks by the spring.
The king picked up the cup, and again held it to catch the tric-kling
drops.
This time he did not wait so long. When the cup was half full, he
lifted it toward his mouth. But before it had touched his lips, the
hawk swooped down again, and knocked it from his hands.
And now the king began to grow angry. He tried again; and for the
third time the hawk kept him from drinking.
The king was now very angry indeed.
"How do you dare to act so?" he cried. "If I had you in my hands, I
would wring your neck!"
Then he filled the cup again. But before he tried to drink, he drew
his sword.
"Now, Sir Hawk," he said, "this is the last time."
He had hardly spoken, before the hawk swooped down and knocked the cup
from his hand. But the king was looking for this. With a quick sweep
of the sword he struck the bird as it passed.
The next moment the poor hawk lay bleeding and dying at its master's
feet.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100