An Arizonan Hill-side. 173 



The cactus-wren, because of its close kinship to 

 the dear wrens of the homestead door-yard, but 

 more by reason of its own merits, held me long, 

 and it will ever be a mystery how this restless bird 

 thridded the maze of spiny branches that baffled 

 all my efforts to follow it. That it could dart 

 through the tangled branches of a stag-horn 

 cactus without a wound is simply miraculous, and 

 do this, too, when pursued ; rushing with reckless 

 haste from a supposed enemy. Possibly it was 

 pricked now and then, but if its feathers were ever 

 ruffled, not so its temper ; and often, when the fates 

 seemed most against it, this bird would perch be- 

 tween thorns of dangerous lengths and sing with 

 that whole-souled ardor that should cause faint- 

 hearted folk to blush. If ever a little foot-sore, 

 and you long to return to the smoothened path- 

 way of the village street, pray for the cactus-wren 

 to find you out. Never a blue- devil so brave as to 

 listen to that bird's song. 



There were other creatures on the hill-side that 



merit our attention, and I would that I had weeks 



instead of minutes to devote to them. Lizards 



and skinks are well-nigh countless ; but not, too, 



15* 



