122 BIRDS IN TOWN AND VILLAGE 



with pale blue eyes and yellowish hair, close- 

 cropped, and the unmistakable London mark in 

 his chalky complexion. He regarded me with 

 cold, suspicious looks, and, when I talked and 

 questioned, answered briefly and somewhat 

 surlily. I treated him to tobacco, and he smoked; 

 but it wasn't shag, and didn't soften him. On 

 mentioning casually that I had seen a stoat an 

 hour before, he exhibited a sudden interest. It 

 was as if one had said "rats I" to a terrier. I 

 succeeded after a while in getting him to tell me 

 the name of the man to whom he sent his captives, 

 and when I told him that I knew the man well — 

 a bird-seller in a low part of London — he thawed 

 visibly. Finally I asked him to look at a red- 

 backed shrike, perched on a bush about fifteen 

 yards from his nets, through my field-glasses, and 

 from that moment he became as friendly as pos- 

 sible, and conversed freely about his mystery. 

 "How near it brings him!" he exclaimed, with 

 a grin of delight, after looking at the bird. The 

 shrike had greatly annoyed him; it had been 

 hanging about for some time, he told me, dashing 

 at the linnets and driving them off when they flew 

 down to the nets. Two or three times he might 



