I became suspicious. All this meant something. 

 The.y kept close together, and fluttered about, 

 hanging from the twigs head down like chicka- 

 dees, deliberately biting off bunches of needles, 

 prying into the cones, and scaling off bits of 

 bark, but finding nothing, nor even trying to 

 find anything. 



At this juncture I chanced to move my feet. 

 The birds stopped instantly ; but on my be- 

 coming quiet they went on scattering the nee- 

 dles and bark-chips again. Then I raised my 

 glass. They paused just for a second, and con- 

 tinued, though now I saw that their picking was 

 all at random, hitting the limb or not as might 

 be. They were not hunting grubs : they were 

 watching me ; and more they were keeping me 

 watching them. 



It was a clever little ruse. But it was too 

 good, too new, too unjaylike for my faith. 

 There was a nest against one of these pines, as 

 sure as it was June. And this fearless uncon- 

 cern ? this new and absorbing interest in grubs ? 

 All assumed ! very genuinely assumed, indeed, 

 and might have led me to do a dozen things 

 other than looking for the nest, had I known a 

 13 [193] 



