The Kangaroo Rat 



tittmmm 

 wSBm 



often heard the most curious strains of birdy 

 music in his half-awakening hours, — a soft, 

 sweet twittering song with trills and deeper 

 notes, — and if he thought about it at all he set 

 it down to some small Bird singing in its dreams, 

 or accepted his comrade's unexplanatory ex- 

 planation that it was one of those "prairie 

 nightingales." But what that was he did not 

 trouble himself to know. 



I have often heard the strange night song, 

 but not being able to trace it home, I set it 

 down to some little Bird that was too happy to 

 express it all in daylight hours. 



Several times at night I overheard from my 

 captive a long-drawn note, before it dawned on 

 me that this was the same voice as that which 

 often sings to the rising moon. I did not hear 

 him really sing, I am sorry to say. I have no 

 final proof. My captive was not seeking to 

 amuse me. Indeed, his attitude toward me 

 from first to last was one of unbending scorn. 

 I can only say I think (and hope) that it was the 

 same voice. But my allegiance is due to exact 

 science. Oh, why did I not take the other trail? 

 For then I should have been able to announce 



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