breath and
pure rich blood. There was food enough along the trail--they chose their
route wisely enough for that, you may be sure; and they were in no great
haste either going or coming.

"Coming," did I say? Why, surely! You didn't think those sandpipers
_stayed_ in Brazil? What did they care for green gem-like beetles, after
all? The only decorations they ever wore were big dark polka dots on
their vests. Perhaps they were all pleased with them, when their old
travel-worn feathers dropped out and new ones came in. Who can tell?
They had a way of running their bills through their plumage after a
bath, as if they liked to comb their pretty feathers.

Be that as it may, there was something beneath their feathers that
quickened like the heart of a journeying gypsy when, with nodding heads
and teetering tails, they started again for the north.

Did they dream of a bank where the blue-bells grew, and a shore spiced
with the fragrance of wild mint?

No one will ever know just how Nature whispers to the bird, "Northward
ho!" But we know they come in the springtime, and right glad are we to
hear their voices.

So Peter Piper, Junior, came back again to the shore of Nearby Island.
And do you think Sandy and Pan walked behind him for company, calling,
"Peep," one to another? And do you think Mother Piper and Father Peter
showed him the way to Faraway Island at sun-down, and guarded him o'
nights? Not they! They were busy, every one, with their own affairs, and
Peter would just have to get along without them.

Well, Peter could--Peter and Dot. For of course he was a grown-up
sandpiper now, with a mate of his own, nodding her wise little head the
livelong day, and teetering for joy all over the rocks where the red
columbine grew.

[Illustration: _The spot she teetered to most of all._]

The spot she teetered to most of all was a little cup-shaped hollow high
up on the border of the ledge, where the sumachs were big as small trees
and where the sweet fern scented the air. The hollow was lined tidily
and softly with dried grass, and made a comfortable place to sit, no
doubt. At least, Dot liked it; and Peter must have had some fondness for
it, too, for he slipped on when Dot was not there herself. It just
fitted their little bodies, and there were four eggs in it of which any
sandpiper might well have been proud; for they were much, much bigger
than most birds the size of Dot could ever lay. In fact, her little body
could