e stream and slowly and reluctantly made my way out of the
forest and went home.

Early next day I was back in the wood full of delightful anticipations,
and had no sooner got well among the trees than a soft, warbling sound
reached my ears; it was like that heard on the previous day just before
catching sight of the girl among the ferns. So soon! thought I, elated,
and with cautious steps I proceeded to explore the ground, hoping again
to catch her unawares. But I saw nothing; and only after beginning to
doubt that I had heard anything unusual, and had sat down to rest on
a rock, the sound was repeated, soft and low as before, very near and
distinct. Nothing more was heard at this spot, but an hour later, in
another place, the same mysterious note sounded near me. During my
remaining time in the forest I was served many times in the same way,
and still nothing was seen, nor was there any change in the voice.

Only when the day was near its end did I give up my quest, feeling very
keenly disappointed. It then struck me that the cause of the elusive
creature's behaviour was that she had been piqued at my discovery of her
in one of her most secret hiding-places in the heart of the wood, and
that it had pleased her to pay me out in this manner.

On the next day there was no change; she was there again, evidently
following me, but always invisible, and varied not from that one mocking
note of yesterday, which seemed to challenge me to find her a second
time. In the end I was vexed, and resolved to be even with her by not
visiting the wood for some time. A display of indifference on my part
would, I hoped, result in making her less coy in the future.

Next day, firm in my new resolution, I accompanied Kua-ko and two others
to a distant spot where they expected that the ripening fruit on a
cashew tree would attract a large number of birds. The fruit, however,
proved still green, so that we gathered none and killed few birds.
Returning together, Kua-ko kept at my side, and by and by, falling
behind our companions, he complimented me on my good shooting, although,
as usual, I had only wasted the arrows I had blown.

"Soon you will be able to hit," he said; "hit a bird as big as a small
woman"; and he laughed once more immoderately at the old joke. At last,
growing confidential, he said that I would soon possess a zabatana of my
own, with arrows in plenty. He was going to make the arrows himself,
and his uncle Otawinki, who