150 THE MALE RUBY-THROAT. 
my whole stay he did not once go to the ap- 
ple-tree, although, for want of anything bet- 
ter to do, I again scrutinized its branches. 
This time I was discouraged, and gave 
over the search. His secret, whatever it 
might be, was “too dear for my possessing.”’ 
But my fellow-observer kept up his visits, 
as I have said, and the hummer remained 
faithful to his task as late as July 15th, 
at least. 
Some readers may be prompted to ask, as 
one of my correspondents asked at the time, 
whether. the mysterious sentry may not have 
been the mate of our home bird. I see no 
ground for such a suspicion. The two 
places were at least a mile apart, as I have 
already mentioned, and woods and hills, to 
say nothing of the village, lay between. If 
he was our bird’s mate, his choice of a picket 
station was indeed an enigma. He might 
almost as well have been on Mount Wash- 
ington. Nor can I believe that he had any 
connection with a nest found two months 
afterward in a pitch-pine grove within a 
quarter of a mile, more or less, of his clear- 
ing. It was undoubtedly a nest of that sea- 
son, and might have been his for aught I 
