::m TWO BIRD-LOVERS IN MEXICO Jg: 



sabe ! " had more of an I-told-you-so accent than ever. 

 But sometimes the faintest of dosf-Hke tracks remained 

 in the sand at niorninp\ 



As witli many mysteries in Nature it was when we 

 ceased to think of it that it was solved. One evening, 

 during a week when the moonhght made useless our 

 candle-lanterns, and the trees and bushes and rocks 

 were enveloped in the pale fairy light from the lumin- 

 ary which seemed suspended so close over the har- 

 rancas summit, we found the solution to our mystery. 

 The air seemed too full of light to stir — Ave in the 

 North do not know what real moonlight is. In the 

 silence I could count each beat of my heart, and soon 

 the rhythm increased in volume and, without abrupt- 

 ness or knowledge of the change, I was listening to 

 the beat-beat-beat-beat of the Ridgway Whip-poor- 

 will. 



The spell of the silent night, the rise and fall of the 

 volcano's fire, and the eternal monotone of the bird 

 held me spell-bound, until my body seemed but part of 

 the quiet whole. Never have I stood so still in my life. 

 Every nerve and muscle seemed at rest. Instead of 

 a novel sensation, it seemed as if I had stood there for 

 ages. Like Atlas, there would soon spring up trees 

 between my feet. 



Before me was the grayish-white sandy bed of the 

 arroyo, with its scattered boulders, shadowless because 

 of the zenith moon. The misty path reflected a cool, 



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