The brave little bird set out upon his errand without further words.  And weak and delicate though he was, he flew and he flew up and up so sturdily that at last he reached the sun, whence he plucked a firebrand and bore it swiftly in his beak back toward the earth.  Like a falling star the bright speck flashed through the air, drawing ever nearer and nearer to the cool waters of Birdland and the safety which awaited him there.  The other birds gathered in a flock about their king and anxiously watched the Wren’s approach.

Suddenly the Robin cried out, “Alas!  He burns!  He has caught fire!” And off darted the faithful little friend to help the Wren.  Sure enough, a spark from the blazing brand had fallen upon the plumage of the Wren, and his poor little wings were burning as he fluttered piteously down, still holding the fire in his beak.

The Robin flew up to him and said, “Well done, brother!  You have succeeded.  Now give me the fire and I will relieve you while you drop into the lake below us to quench the flame which threatens your life.”

So the Robin in his turn seized the firebrand in his beak and started down with it.  But, like the Wren, he too was soon fluttering in the blaze of his own burning plumage, a little living firework, falling toward the earth.

Then up came the Lark, who had been watching the two unselfish birds.  “Give me the brand, brother Robin,” she cried, “for your pretty feathers are all ablaze and your life is in danger.”

So it was the Lark who finally brought the fire safely to the earth and gave it to mankind.  But the Robin and the Wren, when they had put out the flame which burned their feathers, appeared in the assembly of the birds, and were greeted with great applause as the heroes of the day.  The Robin’s breast was scorched a brilliant red, but the poor, brave little Wren was wholly bare of plumage.  All his pretty feathers had been burned away, and he stood before them shivering and piteous.

“Bravo! little Wren,” cried King Eagle.  “A noble deed you have done this day, and nobly have you won back the respect of your brother birds and earned the everlasting gratitude of men.  Now what shall we do to help you in your sorry plight?” After a moment’s thought he turned to the other birds and said, “Who will give a feather to help patch a covering for our brave friend?”

“I!” and “I!” and “I!” and “I!” chorused the generous birds.  And in turn each came forward with a plume or a bit of down from his breast.  The Robin first, who had shared his peril, brought a feather sadly scorched, but precious; the Lark next, who had helped in the time of need.  The Eagle bestowed a kingly feather, the Thrush, the Nightingale,—­every bird contributed except the Owl.

But the selfish Owl said, “I see no reason why I should give a feather.  Hoot!  No!  The Wren brought me into trouble once, and I will not help him now.  Let him go bare, for all my aid.”