:;::;:::35: ALONG THE STREAM OF DEATH m::::::::: 



The tent in the little shelf of the cliff which we call 

 home is open to receive us. We sleep, to dream of cool 

 pines and the warhle of bluebirds. We wake, to hear 

 the scream of a macaw and the sono- of a humming^- 

 bird's wino-s. 



WESTERN MOCKINGBIRD SINGING 



