44 IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 



" Like a poet hidden, 

 Singing songs unbidden," 



But he did not appear. Not a leaf rustled, not 

 a twig bent, though the strange medley kept on 

 for fifteen minutes, then ceased as abruptly as it 

 had begun, and not a whisper more could be 

 heard. The whole thing seemed uncanny. Was 

 it a bird at all, or a mere " wandering voice " ? 

 It seemed to come from a piece of rather 

 swampy ground, overgrown with clumps of wil- 

 low and low shrubs ; but what bird of earthly 

 mould could come and go, and make no sign that 

 a close student of bird ways could detect ? Did 

 he creep on the ground ? Did he vanish into 

 thin air? 



Hours went by. I could not go, and my 

 leafy nook was "struck through with slanted 

 shafts of afternoon " before I reluctantly gave 

 up that I should not see my enchanter that day, 

 and slowly left the grove, the mystery unex- 

 plained. 



Very early the next morning I was saluted 

 by the same loud, clear calls near the house. 

 Had then the Invisible followed me home ? I 

 sprang up and hurried to the always open win- 

 dow. The voice was very near; but I could 

 not see its author, though I was hidden behind 

 blinds. 



This time the bird if bird it were in- 



