32 Bird Comrades 



between my yard and the adjoining one, hopping about on 

 the ground with one eye on the lookout for nits and worms 

 and the other for human disturbers. My attention was 

 first drawn to him by hearing a squeaky little trill in the 

 vacant lot. But, my! how wary he was when I went out 

 to find him! The song bore some resemblance to that of 

 the house wren, but had not so rolling and gurgling a 

 quality, and was pitched to a slightly higher and. finer 

 key. For a long time he kept himself ensconced in the 

 thicket, trilling saucily at intervals, as if daring me to 

 find him if I could, and when I finally drove him out of 

 his hiding place, he darted off in a zigzag course to another 

 bush clump, into which he dropped in the greatest possi- 

 ble haste. 



By and by his curiosity got the better of him, and he 

 flitted to the top of a brush heap and peeped out at me 

 surreptitiously. My glass was upon him in a moment, 

 revealing his whitish throat and mottled chest washed 

 with buff, the latter being his characteristic marking. A 

 few days later he was singing in a small apple tree by my 

 neighbor's fence. I stole as close to him as I could and 

 peered at him through my binocular, while he returned 

 the compliment by peering at me, and then warily ven- 

 tured to rehearse his little tune. The least movement 

 on my part would startle him, cause him to flit to another 

 perch and crane out his neck to glare at me questioningly 

 with wild, dilated eyes, uncertain whether I was to be 

 trusted or not. Both of us presently grew tired of our 

 strained position, and so I walked off and he flew away. 



