FEATHERED RATS. 137 
where. He appeared to have evaporated into 
the heat-haze. And the cat never saw the 
silent form that glided from a nest of flags 
about a yard to one side of his path—glided 
and vanished into the green jungle like a rat. 
This was the water-rail’s mate, a little duller 
perhaps, a bit smaller, but like him in all else. 
That cat found the nest, however, and was 
standing over it, gloating, it seemed, at the 
full meal she beheld therein spread before her, 
when the heavy report of a gun near at hand 
sent her gliding away quickly, like one with 
an evil conscience. It was safe to say she 
had gone only for a time, though—an hour, 
a day, two days, it may be. Cats have a 
knack of returning to the scene of an un- 
successful stalk. 
Five minutes passed—-ten minutes. And 
then, very quietly, most self-effacingly, thrust- 
ing her head out and in, this way and that, in 
her odd, snaky manner, came back the hen 
water-rail. Straight to the nest she went, and 
stood on it motionless for a space—so motion- 
less that one lost sight of her in that abode 
of shadows into which she had merged. 
Then, bending forward, she picked up one 
of her young ones in the nest by the neck, 
much as a cat carries a kitten, and departed 
with it the way she had come. It had not 
8.W. j 
