46 Iff THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 



with every call. I knew him at once, the rogue ! 

 from having read of him ; he was the yellow- 

 breasted chat. It was well, indeed, that I hap- 

 pened to be looking at that very spot, and that 

 I was quick in my observation ; for in a moment 

 he saw the blunder he had made, and slipped 

 back down the stem, too late for his secret I 

 had him down in black and white. 



From that time the little park was never 

 lonely, nor did I spend much time dreaming 

 over Cheyenne. The moment I appeared in the 

 morning my lively host began his vocal gym- 

 nastics, while I sat spellbound, bewitched by the 

 magic of his notes. In spite of being absorbed 

 in listening to him, I retained my faculties suf- 

 ficiently to reflect that the chat had probably 

 other employment than entertaining me, and 

 that doubtless his object was to distract my at- 

 tention from looking about me, or to reproach 

 me for intruding upon his private domain. In 

 either case there was, of course, 



" A nest unseen 

 Somewhere among the million stalks ; " 



and, delightful as I found the unseen bird, his 

 nest was a treasure I was even more anxious to 

 see. 



Not to disturb him more than necessary, I 

 spent part of an evening studying up the nest- 

 ing habits of the chat, the long-tailed, yellow- 



