AN INQUISITIVE BURRO. 89 



spread that I could detect. She came to the 

 ground as if she were a stone, as quickly and as 

 directly as a stone would have fallen ; but just 

 before touching the ground she spread her wings, 

 and alighted lightly on her feet. Then she fell to 

 her labor of collecting what I suppose was nest- 

 ing material, and in a few minutes started up 

 again by the roundabout road to the top. Two 

 hours or more, with gradually stiffening neck, 

 I spent with the wren, while she worked con- 

 stantly and silently, and not once during all 

 that time did the singer appear. 



What the scattering parties of tourists, who 

 from time to time passed me, thought of a silent 

 personage sitting in the canon alone, staring in- 

 tently up at a blank wall of rock, I did not 

 inquire. Perhaps that she was a verse-writer 

 seeking inspiration ; more likely, however, a 

 harmless lunatic musing over her own fancies. 



I know well what I thought of them, from the 

 glimpses that came to me as I sat there ; some 

 climbing over the sharp-edged rocks, in tight 

 boots, delicate kid gloves, and immaculate trav- 

 eling costumes, and panting for breath in the 

 seven thousand feet altitude ; others uncomfort- 

 ably seated on the backs of the scraggy little 

 burros, one of whom was so interested in my 

 proceedings that he walked directly up and 

 thrust his long, inquiring ears into my very face, 



