the
couple that were attending to the gastronomical wants of their children,
one of the adults played a yodel on his trombone sounding like this:
"Ka-ka-ka, k-wilt, k-wilt, k-wilt", the first three short syllables
enunciated rapidly, and the "k-wilts" in a more measured way, with a
peculiar guttural intonation, giving the full sound to the _k_ and _w_.
The birds became very shy when they thought themselves shadowed, not
understanding what my pursuit might imply, and they gave utterance to
harsh cries of warning that were different from any that had preceded.
It was presently followed by a soft and friendly chatter, as if the
birds were having an interview that was exclusively _inter se_. Then one
of them startled me by breaking out in a loud, high key, crying, "Quick!
quick! quick!" as fast as he could fling the syllables from his tongue.
This, being translated into our human vernacular, obviously meant,
"Hurry off! danger! danger!" A few minutes of silence followed the
outburst, while the birds ambled farther away, and then the echoes were
roused by a most raucous call, "Go-ware! go-ware! go-ware!" in a voice
that would have been enough to strike terror to the heart of one who was
not used to uncanny sounds in solitary places. After that outburst the
family flew off, and I could hear them talking the matter over among
themselves far up the mountain side, no doubt congratulating one another
on their hair-breadth escape. The youngsters looked quite stylish with
their quaint little blue caps and neatly fitting knickerbockers.

At Bailey's I found my first and only white-crowned sparrow's nest for
this trip, although two years before I was fortunate enough to discover
several nests in the valleys creeping from the foot of Pike's Peak. At
dusk one evening I was walking along the railway below the village,
listening to the sweetly pensive trills of the white-crowns in the
bushes bordering the creek, when there was a sharp chirp in the willows,
and a female white-crown darted over to my side of the stream and
slipped quietly into a thick bush on the bank. I stepped down to the
spot, and the pretty madame leaped away, uncovering a well-woven nest
containing four white eggs speckled with dark brown. All the while her
spouse was trilling with might and main on the other side of the creek,
to make believe that there was nothing serious happening, no nest that
any one cared anything about. His mate could not disguise her agitation