SPRING AND SUMMER MEET 43 



their steady wings, and their shrill voices pro- 

 nounced them cacklers, a diminutive edition of 

 the big Canada gray. After them at intervals of 

 half a mile came three similar juntos. They had 

 at last turned their backs upon the wheat-fields 

 of the plains, and now were striking off straight 

 into the Northland, where in a few days' time 

 doubtless they would be hatching. Plainly they 

 were the last of the season; and as they faded 

 from view across the valley, it seemed that the 

 last link in the bird-chain of the spring-time had 

 been drawn away into the North, and henceforth 

 we might hope to greet our friends of the 

 summer. 



Soon we met one of them by the roadside. He 

 seemed very much out of place, too, as he flitted 

 about, for he was in most unusual environment. 

 He had a soft yellow coat and a black mask 

 drawn across his face like any highwayman; but 

 in spite of his thug-like visage, he was a retiring 

 little warbler, a northern yellow-throat. He is 

 in fact, one of the shyest of his clan, and except 

 during migration time when he may be found 

 creeping around through the shrubbery, his in- 

 terviewer must penetrate the wet, grassy, wood 

 tangles, or the reedy jungles along the sloughs 



