::::::::3v WALKS IN THE CACTUS COUNTRY m::::::::: 



one of these roosts, a perfect babble of voices was 

 audible above the rustling leaves and twigs. As dark- 

 ness settled down the confusion grew less, the chirps 

 more individual, and when the swift tropic twilight had 

 passed, all was silent, save for a last subdued sleepy 

 p-urale — and the world of Yellow-heads was at rest. 



A GUADALAJARA EXPRESSMAN 



