THE BITTERN 69 



and were hardly seated on the edge of the 

 meadow, facing the beautiful Nobscot Hill, be- 

 fore my comrade said, " Hark ! There he is ! " 



Yes, that certainly was the very sound an 

 old-fashioned wooden pump at work in the 

 meadow. 



We listened intently for perhaps half a dozen 

 times; then I proposed going further up the 

 track to get the notes at shorter range, and pos- 

 sibly who could tell what unheard-of thing 

 might happen ? to obtain a sight of the bird. 

 We advanced cautiously, though as we were on 

 the track, six feet or more above the level of the 

 meadow, there was no chance of concealment, 

 and the bittern went on with his performance. 



Meanwhile we maintained a sharp lookout, and 

 presently I descried a narrow brown object stand- 

 ing upright amidst the grass a stick, perhaps. 

 I lifted my opera-glass and spoke quickly to my 

 friend : " I see him ! " 



"Where?" he asked; and when I lowered 

 my glass and gave him the bird's bearings as 

 related to the remains of an old hayrick not far 

 off, he said, " Why, I saw that, but took it for a 

 stick." 



" Yes, but see the eye," I answered. 



Within half a minute the bird suddenly threw 

 his head forward and commenced pumping. 



