Redruff 



coyly admired him from afar, and felt a little 

 piqued that he had not yet found out her, so 

 close at hand. So it was not quite all mis- 

 chance, perhaps, that little stamp that caught 

 his ear. But now she meekly bowed her head 

 with sweet, submissive grace — the desert passed, 

 the parch-burnt wanderer found the spring at 

 last. 



Oh, those were bright, glad days in the 

 lovely glen of the unlovely name. The sun 

 was never so bright, and the piney air was 

 balmier sweet than dreams. And that great 

 noble bird came daily on his log, sometimes 

 with her and sometimes quite alone, and 

 drummed for very joy of being alive. But why 

 sometimes alone? Why not forever with his 

 Brownie bride? Why should she stay to feast 

 and play with him for hours, then take some 

 stealthy chance to slip away and see him no 

 more for hours or till next day, when his mar- 

 tial music from the log announced him restless 

 for her quick return ? There was a woodland 

 mystery here he could not clear. Why should 

 her stay with him grow daily less till it was 



336 



