166 FOOTING IT IN FRANCONIA 



a little while ago, the man of the house — 

 and of the beanfield — had come face to face 

 with a most handsome, long-antlered deer, 

 wliich stamped at him till the two, man and 

 deer, were at close quarters, and then made 

 off into the woods. Somewhere here, also, 

 the entomological collector had within a week 

 or two found a beetle of a kind that had 

 never been "taken" before except in Ari- 

 zona ! But though I beat the grass over 

 from end to end, there was no sign of horned 

 larks. Ornithology was out of date, as was 

 more and more apparent. 



My homeward walk, with the cold wind 

 cutting my face, took on the complexion of 

 a retreat. I could hardly walk fast enough, 

 though here and there a clump of virginal 

 raspberry vines still detained me briefly. It 

 is amazing how frigid August can be when 

 the mood takes it. A farmer was mowing 

 with his winter coat buttoned to the chin. I 

 looked at him with envy. For my own part 

 I should have been glad of an overcoat ; and 

 that afternoon, when I went out to drive, I 

 wore one, and a borrowed ulster over it. 

 Such feats are pleasant to think of a few 



