SPLASHES OF COLOUR. 31 
silently as a ghost, and mew like a cat behind 
one’s ear in that fashion ? 
The jay stood on the spot vacated by the 
squirrel and shrieked his harsh, grating shriek, 
he did—he, the rogue of the woods, the jester 
of the sombre places. 
And, as he stood there, the bitter north- 
west wind roaring overhead, but around all 
still as in a cavern, a sudden red bar of the 
setting sun stabbed down like a _ sword, 
illuminating his brilliant person in a circle of 
vivid light. Then all shut down again in 
drab shadow, the jay was gone, and the wood 
was deserted and silent as at the start. 
