THE KEEPER'S VISION. 77 
the bird at a glance as a great one. It was 
a cock-nightingale. 
‘Tut-tut!’ said the bird; ‘tut-tut! tut!’ 
then sang as he stood on the ground. 
And it was as if the voice of a famous 
tenor had pealed forth through the chanting 
of a choir at St Paul’s. 
Came suddenly a clap of wings and a 
shadow. Next second the pigeon responsible 
for the cooing was seated, facing the keeper, 
on a low bough. 
Followed then a whisper as of last year’s 
dead leaves. The sound became a cock- 
pheasant, resplendent in the garb of a bronze, 
green-headed image with a collar, like the 
pigeon’s, of white enamel. 
‘Chucka! Chuck—chucka!’ said he to 
himself, and stayed. 
Came then a flip, as if a piece of old, de- 
cayed branch had been broken off and had 
fallen to the ground, but never branch fell so 
lightly. It was a fat, mottled, skewer-beaked 
woodcock who stood before them, regarding 
them with his big, moth-like eyes. And all 
the time the soft ‘ Thrup—thru-up!’ behind 
his ears told the keeper that a cock-robin was 
catching flies as they settled in the sun on.the 
broad human back. 
The company was complete. All these 
