MYSTERIES ON FOOT. 77 



all the evening from the valley below; many- 

 little birds sang and called; and 



" The gossip of swallows filled all the sky." 



But the blue jays? 



The blue jays, too, were there. One saucily 

 flirted his tail at me from the top of a tree; an- 

 other sly rogue flaunted his blue robes over a 

 wall and disappeared the other side; a third 

 shrieked in my face and slipped away behind a 

 tree; but one and all were far too wise to re- 

 veal their domestic secrets. I knew mysteries 

 were on foot among them, as we know little folk 

 are in mischief by their unnatural stillness, but 

 I knew also that not until every jay baby was 

 out of the nest, and there was nothing to hide, 

 should I see that cunning bird in his usual 

 noisy, careless role. 



The peculiarity of that particular corner of na- 

 ture 's handiwork was that any way you went you 

 had to climb, except east, where you might roll 

 if you chose ; in fact, you could hardly do other- 

 wise. The first day of my hunt I started west. 

 I climbed a hill devoted to pasture, passed 

 through the bars, and faced my mountain. It 

 presented a compact front of spruce -trees closely 

 interlaced at the ground, and of course impas- 

 sable. But a way opened in the midst, the path 

 of a mountain brook, deserted now and dry. I 



