A Pasture Tragedy 199 



bank. The hole was about as big around as a baseball. With the courage 

 of ignorance I thrust my arm in as far as I could reach, and found nothing. 

 (The Wise Man told me afterward that once he had done the same and had 

 encountered a black snake). Then I tried to measure the length of the 

 passage with a stick about three feet long, but the length of the passage 

 was greater than that of the stick. After waiting in vain for some time for 

 the return of the bird, I went home, wondering what the Wise Man 

 would say when 1 told him that I had discovered a real live Kingfisher's 

 nest. 



That night and the next day it rained and rained, not in drops, but in 

 torrents. On Monday afternoon (I had made my discovery on a Saturday) 

 I offered to conduct the Wise Man, cheerful but doubting, to the scene of 

 my discovery. 



Over the fields and through the drenched daisies we went, with no 

 Redwing on the hickory tree to redeem the scene with a spot of brightness. 

 We climbed the bank. I had noted my landmarks carefully, and conducted 

 my companion directly to the spot. With blank surprise I saw that there 

 was no hole in the bank. There was a careful and studied considerateness in 

 the Wise Man's gentle smile. 



" The Kingfisher doesn't build in a bank of this kind," he said. " He 

 builds in more solid soil and in a more precipitous bank." 



But," said I, "what did he go into the bank and carry things in for, 

 if he hadn't a nest?" 



Again the Wise Man smiled indulgently. It was quite evident that 

 there was no hole there, so how could there be a nest? 



The next day I insisted on looking once again for the nest with the 

 magic habit of disappearing, and this time the Wise Man was interested in 

 what he saw. In the place where I said the hole had been, digging had" 

 been begun. Little headway had been made, but some animal or bird had 

 been at work. 



" The earth has caved in," we both agreed. " The nest is buried," and 

 the Wise Man took a stick and dug into the soft earth for some distance, 

 but made no discoveries. 



Two days later he came in from an early morning stroll. "Come out 

 after breakfast," he said; " there is something I want to show you." 



We went, and there was the Kingfisher's burrow once more dug back 

 further than we could reach. No birds, however, were about. All my 

 leisure time that day I watched, and the next morning we went again. 

 There were still no birds, and at the opening of the burrow small black 

 beetles crawled busily back and forth. 



We looked at each other. " It is a tragedy," I said. " Let us know 

 what it is." 



It took more than a few strokes of the Wise Man's spade to lay bare 



