FIELD-DAYS IN CALIFORNIA 



the end. And for one day it was enough. " My 

 lucky day," I called it. And so it was ; for on the 

 morrow, hoping to duplicate the experience, at 

 least in part, I visited the same cafion again ; and 

 lo, there was neither ouzel nor condor, nor so 

 much as an eagle. There was nothing for me to 

 do but to enjoy the canon itself, with the flowers 

 and the ferns, and to ruminate upon my good for- 

 tune of the day before. " If you would see things," 

 I said, " you must be willing to go and go, and go 

 again, and be thankful for what is shown you." All 

 things come to him who keeps going. I should 

 never have seen the ouzels if I had sat on my 

 doorstep and whistled for them. 



Just a week afterward, let it be added, for the 

 sake of finishing the story, I went to the same 

 canon once more. A special breakfast had been 

 ordered the night previous ; for this time, if the 

 thing were possible, I meant to be on hand so 

 early that nobody should have preceded me on 

 the canon trail. That, I considered, was my only 

 chance of success. 



Well, I reached the entrance in excellent sea- 

 son and in high spirits, but just as I was pre- 

 paring to put my superfluous umbrella (little 

 shade) into hiding a stranger's voice made itself 

 heard from the bank immediately over my head. 

 " Is this Eaton Canon ? " it inquired. I answered 

 io8 



