218 WITHIN AN HOUR OF LONDON TOWN. 



will be pretty certain to find him, if you know how 

 to look for him, scuttling round some ant-hill : no 

 deserted one, though, he knows better than that. 



There he is ! the yellow patch on the lower part 

 of his back betrayed him as he scuttled round, and 

 he is continually on the scuttle. Up he pokes his 

 long stout bill and a part of his head from the side 

 of the ant-hill that is farthest from us, a comical 

 bird, truly. He is listening to find out, if he can, 

 what that suspicious rustle was that he heard just 

 now. He is not quite satisfied, arid presently he 

 dives into the ferns at the stem of one of the old 

 thorns, a little farther away. Being well acquainted 

 with his antics, we look at once at the middle of 

 the tree, and there we have him, his head twisted 

 round the stem, looking in our direction. My glass 

 is full on him, and he appears a most extraordinary 

 fellow as he raises the crimson feathers of his head 

 and lets them fall again, the head well on the slant, 

 a red -capped, long-nosed, feathered harlequin. 

 On examining the ant-hill on which he has been 

 so busy, we find he has excavated into it sideways 

 driven tunnels, in fact. There has been no waste 

 of labour ; he has gone straight for the emmets 



