90 THE BLUE J AY BABY. 



could select I started my climb. Unfortunately 

 that very spot had been already chosen by a 

 small rill, a mere trickle of water, to come down. 

 It was not big enough to make itself a channel 

 and keep to it, but it sprawled all over the land. 

 Now it lingered in the cows' footprints and 

 made a little round pool of each ; then it loitered 

 on a level bit of ground, and soaked it full; 

 when it reached a comfortable bed between the 

 roots of trees, it almost decided to stay and be a 

 pond, and it dallied so long before it found a 

 tiny opening and straggled out, that if it did 

 not result in a pond, it did accomplish a treach- 

 erous quagmire. In fact that undecided, feeble- 

 minded streamlet totally "demoralized" the 

 whole hillside, and with its vagaries I had to 

 contend at every step of my way. 



I reached the top, but I left deep footprints 

 to be turned into pools of a new pattern, and as 

 trophy I carried away some of the soil on my 

 dress. Of my shoes I will not speak; shall we 

 not have souls above shoe-leather? 



As soon as I recovered breath after my hasty 

 scramble to dry ground, I started toward a thick- 

 growing belt of spruce trees which came down 

 from the mountain and ended in a point, — one 

 tree in advance, like the leader of an army. 

 Here I found the bird I was seeking, a much 

 disturbed bluejay, who met me at the door — so 



