A BUNCH OF BRIGHT BIRDS 285 



upon the droll appearance of the bird, perched 

 thus above the world, and cooing in this (for 

 him) ridiculous, lovelorn, gesticulatory manner. 



Then, as we drove on, I recalled the strangely 

 rapid and effortless gait with which he had gone 

 up the mountain. " He did n't use his wings, did 

 he ? " I asked ; and my companion thought not. 

 I was reminded of a bird of the same land that 

 I had seen a few days before cross a deep gully 

 perhaps twenty feet in width. " He seemed to 

 slide across," said the man who was with me. 

 That was exactly the word. He did not lift a 

 wing, to the best of our noticing, nor rise so much 

 as an inch into the air, but as it were stepped 

 from one bank to the other. So this second bird 

 went up the mountain-side almost without our 

 seeing how he did it. A few steps, and he was 

 there, as by the exercise of some special gift of 

 specific levity. He did not fly ; and yet it might 

 have " seemed he flew, the way so easy was." 

 Take him how you will, the road-runner's looks 

 do not belie him : he is an odd one ; and never 

 odder, I should guess, than when he stands upon 

 a mountain-top and with lowered head pours out 

 his amorous soul in coos as gentle as a sucking 

 dove's. I count myself happy to have witnessed 

 the moving spectacle. 



I am running into superlatives, but no matter. 



