e-crown flew out of the building just as I
stepped into the entrance, almost fluttering against my feet, and
chirping sharply at what he seemed to think a narrow escape. He had
doubtless gone into the stable on a foraging expedition.

The day was spent in exploring the valley and steep mountain sides. A
robin's nest was found a little below the timber-line on the slope of
Mount Kelso. In the woods a short distance farther down, a gray-headed
junco's nest was discovered after a good deal of patient waiting. A
female was preening her feathers on a small pine-tree, a sure sign that
she had recently come from brooding her eggs. Presently she began to
flit about from the tree to the ground and back again, making many
feints and starts, which proved that she was embarrassed by my
espionage; but at last she disappeared and did not return. With
quickened pulse I approached the place where I had last seen her. It was
not long before she flew up with a nervous chirp, revealing a pretty
domicile under a roof of green grass, with four daintily speckled eggs
on the concave floor. I noticed especially that the doorway of the tiny
cottage was open toward the morning sun.

At the timber-line there were ruby-crowned kinglets, mountain
chickadees, and gray-headed juncos, while far above this wavering
boundary a pair of red-shafted flickers were observed ambling about
among the bushes and watching me as intently as I was watching them. I
climbed far up the side of Mount Kelso, then around its rocky shoulder,
following an old trail that led to several abandoned silver mines, but
no new birds rewarded my toilsome quest, although I was pleased to learn
that the pipits and leucostictes did not give the "go-by" to this grand
old mountain, but performed their thrilling calisthenics in the air
about its slopes and ravines with as much grace as they did on the
loftier mountain peaks the day before. A beautiful fox and three cubs
were seen among the large stones, and many mountain rats and a sly mink
went scuttling about over the rocks.

[Illustration: _Junco_

"_Under a roof of green grass_"]

On the morning of June 30 the white-crowns, as usual, were chanting
their litanies long before day broke. We left the enchanting valley that
morning, the trills of the white-crowns ringing in the alpenglow like a
sad farewell, as if they felt that we should never meet again. On our
way down the winding road we frequently turned to gaze with longing
ey