134 DENSE COVERTS. 



once or twice, tramping about in the bushes and 

 growling over her wounds, and though I am con- 

 vinced she and the cub were within a few hundred 

 yards of us whilst we munched the black bread and 

 onions that made our lunch, we never saw either 

 of them again. 



Black bread and an onion sounds but a poor 

 kind of refreshment after a hard morning's work, 

 yet what real enjoyment that half-hour at lunch 

 used to be to us, only those who really love forest 

 life and nature at home can tell. All the mysterious 

 rustlings of the forest, every breaking twig, sug- 

 gested a whole volume of possible adventure to us. 

 Coming but six weeks before from the stifling 

 atmosphere of London, every breath of fresh air 

 seemed full of fresh life, every forest sound replete 

 with music. The chirping of the green frogs those 

 mysterious little saurian* whose bird-like note is 

 so pitched as rather to lead you from than to their 

 hiding-place ; the harsh shrill note of the handsome 

 black woodpecker, whose crimson crest is the more 

 distinctly beautiful as it is his only adornment ; 

 the continual chattering of the traitor jays, who 

 seem always bent on proclaiming the hunter's 

 presence ; even the sharp rattle of the chestnuts, 

 falling over-ripe from the trees ; the droning of the 

 bees, and the tiny but insatiable mosquito, combine, 

 though in themselves not all harmonious, with the 

 murmur of the sea and the whisper of the breeze, 



