FRIENDS IN FEATHERS 



in contact with a millionaire lease-owner or a ditcher in a trench, 

 the mere fact that I was a woman, trying to do something at 

 which they could help, had been sufficient. Some of them had 

 understood my work and some had not, but in no single instance 

 had one of them ever failed to do anything in his power or to 

 show me royal courtesy, while of them all Bob was king. 



Without a word of salutation or apparent notice he walked 

 straight to the small black and began knotting the hitching strap 

 around the tree. As his hands moved a big diamond gleamed in 

 the light. I knew Bob, but you never could tell about an oil- 

 man if you did not. An elegantly dressed individual might be a 

 promoter with capital so nearly atmospheric that he lacked the 

 price of his dinner, while a begrimed creature in jumpers and 

 sweater might be a capitalist whose automobile waited in the 

 stubble of the adjoining field while he inspected his holdings. 



"Is there something for me?" I asked. 



"There is," replied Bob. 



He lifted the camera, picked up the tripod, ordered Gypsy 

 to remain with the rig, then led the way down the path, through 

 the boiler house, where the exhaust pipe 'uttered deafening 

 shrieks and the ground trembled with the throbbing of the big- 

 black monster, past his brooding Quail and Wood Robin, past his 

 Blue Finch and Song Sparrow down to the nest of his Black- 

 masked W 7 arbler. 



"But I thought we agreed not to disturb her until she had 

 brooded at least a week," I objected. 



"Look!" said Bob, and kneeling, he bent back the wild 

 plum bushes bringing to light the daintiest of little grassy, moss- 

 covered cups. It contained only two of the beautiful Warbler 

 eggs that had been in it the day before, and two big eggs with a 

 white ground finely dotted with purple. 



"What does it mean?" questioned Bob in rank disgust. 



264 



