::::::::»|: TWO BIRD-LOVERS IN MEXICO JSc:::.:": 



leaf. Wild mice ran and squeaked about the edges of 

 the tent, holding an orgy over the supper crumbs. 

 Some oreat ni<»lit insect would come with a buzz and 

 a thud against the sloping top, and crawl clumsily to 

 the ridge, from which he would take heavy flight. 

 Every leg and claw was distinct in his shadow silliouette, 

 as he climbed upward. Now a long-drawn squeak 

 came, and the tent shook as a little mouse-like form 

 alighted on the apex. These flying- squirrels, or leap- 

 ing-mice, — for we never succeeded in getting a good 

 look at them, — must miss the smooth tent slope down 

 whicli they so loved to slide. To us, their frolic 

 showed a dark, sprawling, shadow-mass gliding swiftly 

 down tlie tent roof, and shooting oil" down tlie hill- 

 side. 



What a ditt'erence results from the various ways of 

 looking at things in this world ! To us, our camp was 

 an ideal little liome, comfortable and all-sufticing. 

 The sixteenth of an inch of canvas wall shut out 

 the great world, or rather shut a tiny portion of it 

 in, and behold, all wildness vanished ! This little 

 rooty space — ten by twelve feet — might have been 

 trodden by us for years, and by our ancestors for 

 generations, so familiar did it seem after a week's 

 inhabitance. But to the squirrels, or mice, or what- 

 ever they were, here was a most fascinating " chute," 

 — a run, jump, and slide, — which ended in a veri- 

 table paradise of biscuit crumbs. 



