d as trophy I carried away some of the soil on my
dress. Of my shoes I will not speak; shall we not have souls above
shoe-leather?

As soon as I recovered breath after my hasty scramble to dry ground, I
started toward a thick-growing belt of spruce trees which came down from
the mountain and ended in a point,--one tree in advance, like the leader
of an army. Here I found the bird I was seeking, a much disturbed
bluejay, who met me at the door--so to speak--with a defiant squawk, a
warning to come no nearer.

"Ah ha!" said I, exultingly, "are your little folk in there? Then I
shall see them."

I slowly advanced; she disputed my passage at every step, but nothing
was to be seen till her anxiety got the better of her discretion and she
herself gave me the precious secret; she suddenly slipped through the
trees to the other side, and became perfectly silent.

I could not follow her path through the tangle of trees, but I could go
around, and I did. On a dead spruce wedged in among the living ones I
saw the object of her solicitude; a lovely sight it was! Two young
bluejays huddled close together on a twig. They were "humped up," with
heads drawn down into their shoulders, and breast feathers fluffed out
like snowy-white floss silk, completely covering their feet and the
perch. No wonder that poor little mother was anxious, for a more
beautiful pair I never saw, and to see them was to long to take them in
one's hands.

Silent and patient little fellows they appeared, looking at me with
innocent eyes, but showing no fear. They were a good deal more concerned
about something to eat, and when their mother came they reminded her by
a low peep that they were still there. She gave them nothing; she was
too anxious to get them out of my sight, and she disappeared behind a
thick branch.

In a moment I heard the cry of a bird I could not see. So also did the
twins on the tree, and to them it meant somebody being fed; they lifted
their little wings, spread out like fans their short beautiful tails,
and by help of both, half hopped, half flew through the branches to the
other side.

I followed, by the roundabout way again, and then I saw another one.
Three bonny bairns in blue were on that dead spruce tree; two close
together as before, and the third--who seemed more lively--sitting
alone. He lifted his crest a little, turned his head and looked squarely
at me, but seeing nothing to alarm him--wise little jay!--did not move.