THE CAPERCAILE. 141 



low in tone, sucli an absolute quiet reigns, that it is 

 heard distinctly even when you are not close to the 

 bird. 



Before this begins, however, you must be near the 

 tree you noted so well the preceding evening. As it 

 is still night, there is some difficulty in discovering any 

 object; and only the dark undefined outlines of large 

 masses like trees can be discovered as you peer upward, 

 and your vision grows accustomed to the darkness. 

 But, hark ! from a distance you hear a sound which, 

 did you not know what it was, you surely would never 

 interpret. From a tree-top it comes across to you 

 through the air, sounding something like a person 

 pronouncing '^ tut, tut," gutturally, in the depth of his 

 throat, or as if two pieces of hard wood were being 

 knocked against each other. 



Well, that's a cheering circumstance ; for, though 

 you knew he must be there, you were not sure if he 

 would call or not, and without that there were no pos- 

 sibility of approaching him. And after rising at mid- 

 night, and a walk of some hours through the wood, and 

 a cold hour's watching before the dawn, it is vexatious 

 to hear nothing ; and still more so when day is just 

 breaking, to distinguish the dark form of the capercaile 

 a hundred yards distant on a projecting bough. 



But this morning there is no cause for regrets, or 

 lamentation, or complaint. You are at your post 



