20 FOOTING IT IN FRANCONIA 



fancied he was at his bath. Minute after 

 minute elapsed. There was no sign of him, 

 and at last I left my seat and made my way 

 stealthily down to the shore. Nothing rose. 

 I tramped over the logs, with no result. It 

 was like magic, the work of some evil 

 spirit. I began almost to believe that my 

 eyes had been made the fools of the other 

 senses. If I had seen a bird there, where 

 in the name of reason could it have gone ? 

 It could not have dropped into the water, 

 seeking winter quarters in the mud at the 

 bottom, according to the notions of our old- 

 time ornithologists ! 



Half an hour afterward, having finished 

 my luncheon, I went into the woods along 

 the path ; and there, presently, I discovered 

 a mixed flock of crossbills, red ones and 

 white- wings, feeding so quietly that till 

 now I had not suspected their presence. 

 My waterside bird was doubtless among 

 them ; and doubtless my eyes had not been 

 fixed upon the place of his disappearance 

 quite so uninterruptedly as I had imagined. 

 It was not the first time that such a thing 

 had happened to me. How frequently have 



