10 A-BIRDING ON A BRONCO. 



matter over, and, encouraged perhaps by my 

 whistle, came back and hopped down into the 

 little nest. 



Two weeks later I was much grieved to find 

 that the nest had been broken up. A horse had 

 been staked under the tree, but he could not have 

 done the mischief ; for while the eggs were there, 

 the nest itself was all jumbled up in the mouth of 

 the can. I could not get it out of my mind for 

 days. You become so much interested in the fam- 

 ilies you are watching that you feel as if their 

 troubles were yours, and are haunted by the fear 

 that they will think you have something to do 

 with their accidents. They had taken me on pro- 

 bation at first, and at last had come to trust me 

 — and then to imagine that I could deceive them 

 and do the harm myself ! 



When Canello and I left the brushy side of 

 the canyon and started across the valley, the 

 pretty little horned larks, whose reddish backs 

 matched the color of the road, would run on 

 ahead of us, or let the horses come within a few 

 feet of them, squatting down ready to start, but 

 not taking wing till it seemed as if they would 

 get stepped on. Sometimes one sat on a stone by 

 the roadside, so busy singing its thin chattering 

 song that it only flitted on to the next stone as 

 we came up ; for it never seemed to occur to the 

 trustful birds that passers-by might harm them. 



One of our most interesting birds nested in 



