N£ST-HUNTING. 1 03 



proclaiming a secret that she could not keep. 

 There on the grass, sure enough, was her nestful of 

 little ones. Some accident must have befallen the 

 fibrous cot, for the weeds and clover were broken 

 down and trampled fiat all around it, so that it sat 

 loosely on the ground, without even a blade of grass 

 to shelter it. Fearing that buccaneers in the shape 

 of jays or hawks might rob the nest, I broke off a 

 number of weeds and made a sort of thatched roof 

 over it ; that would also protect the panting infants 

 from the sun, which was beating down like a furnace. 

 Then I took my stand a few rods away, to see what 

 the old birds would do. Erelong both the papa 

 and mamma came with billsome morsels in their 

 mouths, and, after fluttering about uneasily for a 

 few- minutes, darted down to the nest and fed their 

 young. Of course, they first had to peep, and peer, 

 and cant their dainty heads this way and that, to 

 examine the roof I had improvised for the nest, 

 wondering, no doubt, what kind of a bungling archi- 

 tect had been at work there ; but finally they 

 seemed to think all was well. Perhaps in their 

 hearts they thanked me for my thoughtful care. 



A day or two later I called again, even at the risk 

 of coming de trap. The weeds arched over the 

 bird crib at my former visit having withered, I made 

 them another green roof, sheltering them as cosily 

 as I could and leaving a small opening at the side 

 for an entrance. After an absence of a few minutes 

 I crept surreptitiously back to the enchanted spot, — 

 for it drew me like a loadstone, — and there sat the 



