THE SANTA CRUZ MOUNTAINS 



thoughts — a " priestlike task " at which nothing 

 in nature is more efficient, — a dark-colored bird 

 flew out from under the bridge close to the water, 

 anon dropped into it, swam, or was carried by 

 it, a yard or two, took wing again, again dropped 

 into the current, and then came to rest upon a 

 rock on the water's edge. There it stood for half 

 an hour, a great part of the time on one leg, 

 preening its feathers, yawning, and, what was 

 worth all the rest, winking, till its eye looked 

 like the revolving lamp of a lighthouse, I said to 

 myself. At last, when I was growing weary, it 

 all at once gave signs of nervousness, and the 

 next moment was on the wing and out of sight. 

 A water-ouzel, as the reader knows. 



There would be no such fortune for me this 

 morning, I knew well enough as I approached the 

 bridge ; but anyhow I must stay a bit, admiring 

 the rush of the water, and the ferns of various 

 sorts that draped the tall, vertical cliff on the 

 farther side. And lo, while I was thus engaged, 

 my ears caught the ouzel's note. He was at that 

 very moment dropping into the stream under my 

 eyes. Another instant, and he was out again, and 

 in two seconds more he was gone. What a sprite ! 

 A bird with none like him. So commonplace an 

 exterior, and, as it surely seems, so romantic a 

 soul, vitality incarnate, the very soul of the 

 IS3 



