IDLE DAYS 139 



keys, with nothing to restrain us in our gambols, 

 and with only a keener sense of the ridiculous to 

 distinguish us from other creatures? 



But what, I suddenly think, if some person in 

 search of roots and gums, or only curious to know 

 how a field naturalist spends his days, gunless 

 in the woods, should be secretly following and 

 watching me all the time ? 



I spring up alarmed, and cast my eyes rapidly 

 around me. Merciful heavens! what is that sus- 

 piciously human-looking object seventy yards 

 away amongst the bushes'? Ah, relief inexpres- 

 sible, it is only the pretty hare-like Dolichotis 

 patagonica sitting up on his haunches, gazing at 

 me with a meek wonder in his large round timid 

 eyes. 



The little birds are bolder and come in crowds, 

 peering curiously from every twig, chirping and 

 twittering with occasional explosions of shrill de- 

 risive laughter. I feel myself blushing all over 

 my face; their jeering remarks become intoler- 

 able, and, owl-like, I fly from their persecutions to 

 hide myself in a close thicket. There, with gray- 

 green curtains about and around me, I lie on a 

 floor of soft yellow sand, silent and motionless as 

 my neighbor the little spider seated on his geo- 

 metric web, till the waning light and the flute of 

 the tinamou send me home to supper. 



