124 



Bird-Land Echoes. 



came the whir and shadow of wings in my face. It 

 was a night-hawk, and I had either stepped upon or 

 was veiy near the bird's eggs. I stood perfectly still 

 and examined every square inch of ground near me, 

 hoping to prove the excellence of my eyesight by 

 discovering the eggs. The archaeologists approached, 

 attracted by my statue-like pose, but I motioned to 

 them to keep away. They could not see the night- 

 hawk, and concluded that I was crazy, but I kept 



Night-hawk. 



them off until I gave up searching for the eggs. " In 

 a fit?" called one of them. All this time the night- 

 hawk was almost striking me in the face, and yet 

 neither of them saw the bird. Sharp-sighted men, 

 observing men, who complain that they cannot find 

 stone axes in a gravel bed. Later I searched the 

 ground — a stony field — with the greatest care, and 

 at last succeeded. What puzzles me now is how the 



