228 EVERYDAY ADVENTURES 
One day it would come from the house, and again 
from the edge of the woods. Yet, skulk and peer and 
listen as I would, I could never locate the singer or 
identify the song. 
The revelation came one Sunday morning, as two 
of us were breakfasting on the terrace close to the 
house. Suddenly that vile song began. It seemed to 
come from near the top of a tree by the farther end 
of the house. I rushed to the place, my napkin 
flapping asI ran. By the time I reached the tree, the 
song came from the opposite side of the house. Back 
I hastened, only to find that the bird had once more 
flitted to the other side. I hurried there, but again 
that bird was gone, and a moment later sang from 
the farthest end of the house. Three separate times 
I circled the place, with the singer and the song al- 
ways Just ahead of me. It was only when I noticed 
that my companion at breakfast had fallen forward 
on the table overcome by emotion, that I began to 
suspect the worse. I hid behind a tree and waited. 
A moment later I saw the alleged bird-enthusiast, 
clothed in preposterous pink pajamas, and blowing 
false and fluting notes on a tin bird-whistle, the silly 
kind that children fill with water and blow through. 
I have not yet been able to live down that bird-song. 
When I was a boy, there were four of us who always 
hunted and fished and tramped and explored together. 
We never supposed that anything could separate 
us. Yet the years have blown us apart, and we 
go adventuring together no more. Alone of that 
