THE young seagull was alone on his ledge. His two
brothers and his sister had already flown away the
day before. He had been afraid to fly with them.
Somehow when he had taken a little run forward to
the brink of the ledge and attempted to flap his
wings he became afraid. The great expanse of sea
stretched down beneath, and it was such a long
way down — miles down. He felt certain that his
wings would never support him; so he bent his head
and ran away back to the little hole under the ledge
where he slept at night. Even when each of his
brothers and his little sister, whose wings were far
shorter than his own, ran to the brink, flapped their
wings, and flew away, he failed to muster up courage
to take that plunge which appeared to him so
desperate. His father and mother had come aroundcalling to him shrilly, upbraiding him, threatening
to let him starve on his ledge unless he flew away.
But for the life of him he could not move.
That was twenty-four hours ago. Since then
nobody had come near him. The day before, all day
long, he had watched his parents flying about with
his brothers and sister, perfecting them in the art
of flight, teaching them how to skim the waves and
how to dive for fish. He had, in fact, seen his older
...