OVER THE DIVIDE AND BACK 127 



with deep snowdrifts throughout the summer. For 

 some purposes Leadville may be an exceedingly desir- 

 able city, but it has few attractions for the ornithol- 

 ogist. I took a long walk through a part of the city, 

 and, whether you will believe it or not, I did not see 

 a single bird outside of a cage, not even a house-finch 

 or an English sparrow, nor did I see one tree in my 

 entire stroll along the busy streets. The caged birds 

 seen were a canary and a cardinal, and, oddly enough, 

 both of them were singing, mayhap for very home- 

 sickness. 



Why should a bird student tarry here ? What was 

 there to keep him in a birdless place like this? I 

 decided to leave at once, and so, checking my baggage 

 through to Buena Vista, I started afoot down the moun- 

 tain side, determined to walk to Malta, a station five 

 miles below, observing the birds along the way. Not a 

 feathered lilter was seen until I had gone about a mile 

 from Leadville, when a disconsolate robin appeared 

 among some scraggy pine bushes, not uttering so much 

 as a chirp by way of greeting. 



A few minutes later I heard a vigorous and musical 

 chirping in the pine bushes, and, turning aside, found a 

 flock of small, finch-like birds. They flitted about so 

 rapidly that it was impossible to get a good view of 

 them with my glasses ; but such glimpses as I obtained 

 revealed a prevailing grayish, streaked with some darker 



