than when I set out.

XV.

THE BOBOLINK'S NEST.

My acquaintance with the bobolink was resumed a year later in the lovely
summer home of a friend in the Black River Country, within sight of the
Adirondack hills. We had found many nests in the woods and orchards, but
the meadow had been safe from our feet, partly because of the rich crops
that covered it, but more, perhaps, because of the hopelessness of the
search over the broad fields for anything so easily hidden as a ground
nest.

One evening, however, our host with a triumphant air invited us to walk,
declaring that he could show us a nest more interesting than we had
found.

The gentleman was a joker, and his statements were apt to be somewhat
embellished by his vivid imagination, so that we accepted them with
caution; but now he looked exultant, and we believed him, especially as
he took his hat and stick and started off.

Down the road we went, a single carriage-way between two banks of grass
a yard high. After carefully taking his bearings by certain small
elm-trees, and searching diligently about for an inconspicuous dead twig
he had planted as a guide-post, our leader confidently waded into the
green depths, parted the stalks in a certain spot, and bade us look.

We did. In a cosy cup, almost under our feet, were cuddled together
three bird-babies.

"Bobolinks?" we cried in a breath.

"Yes, bobolinks," said our guide; "and you had to wait for an old
half-blind man to find them for you."

We were too much delighted to be annoyed by his teasing; a bobolink's
nest we never hoped to see.

Nor should we, but for a discovery of mine that very morning. Walking
down that same road, I had noticed in the deep grass near the path a
clump of exquisite wild flowers. They were of gorgeous coloring, shaded
from deep orange to rich yellow, full petaled like an English daisy, and
about the size of that flower, with the edge of every tiny petal cut in
fairy-like fringe. I admired them for some minutes as they grew, and
then gathered a handful to grace my room. As I came up to the house, my
host stood on the steps; his eyes fell at once upon my nosegay, and a
look of horror came into his face.

My heart sank. Had I unwittingly picked some of his special treasures,
some rare exotic which he had cultivated with care?

"Where did you find that stuff?" he demanded. I was instantly relieved;
no man will call a treasure "stuff."

"In the meadow," I answered.