70 AMERICAN GAME BIRD SHOOTING 



from the scrubby bushes near the trail, and the neat, 

 trimly-built little fellows carried on their small affairs 

 with little regard for our presence. While riding at 

 the head of the pack train, I frequently found them 

 scratching in the sandy trails, dusting themselves, or 

 searching for food. At such times it was amusing to 

 note the pretty air of doubt and hesitation with which 

 they awaited my approach before finally moving rather 

 deliberately a few yards to one side when I came too 

 near. Now and then the male could be heard uttering 

 little querulous notes, as if in subdued protest at being 

 disturbed. After entering Chiapas the coast was left 

 behind, and we passed into the interior through a se- 

 ries of beautiful open valleys ornamented with scat- 

 tered bushes and belts of trees. It was during the 

 rainy season, and the vegetation was growing luxuri- 

 antly ; everywhere were myriads of flowers, and the in- 

 numerable plumelike heads of tall grasses nodded grace- 

 fully in the passing breezes. In these valleys the bob- 

 whites were very common-. It generally rained during 

 the night, but the clouds broke away at dawn, leaving 

 a brilliantly clear sky. We were up and on our way at 

 sunrise, amid the invigorating freshness of early morn- 

 ing, when every leaf and twig bore a pendant water- 

 drop that sent out quivering rays of light with the first 

 touch of the sun. On every hand were new flowers and 

 strange birds. Now and then the Central American 

 mockingbird, in full-throated ecstasy, poured out its 

 rich song, and over it all, at short intervals, the clear 

 call of bobwhite arose from a bush or low tree. At 



