ittle worse than the usual
snarl of saplings and fallen branches and other hindrances, and the
morning was warm. My heart failed me; and as my leader turned from the
path I deserted. "You go in, if you like," I said; "I'll wait for you
here."

I seated myself, and she went on. For a few minutes I heard the cracking
of twigs, the rustle of her movements against the bushes, the heavy
tread of her big dog, and then all was silent.

It was--did I say it was a fair morning?--not a breath of air was
stirring. My seat was in a rather open spot at the foot of a big
butternut tree; and I could look far up where its branches spread out
wide and held their graceful leafy stars against the blue.

In the woods I am never lonely; but I was not this morning alone. Near
by a vireo kept up his tireless song; a gray squirrel peeped curiously
at me from behind a trunk, his head showing on one side and his tail on
the other; an oven-bird stole up behind to see what manner of creature
this was, and far off I could hear the tanager singing.

I did not notice the time; but after a while I became conscious of a low
whistle which seemed to mingle with my reveries, and might have been
going on for some minutes. Suddenly it struck me that it was the call of
my fellow-student, and I started up the road wondering lazily if she had
found the nest, and, to tell the truth, not caring much whether she had
or not. For, to tell the whole truth, I had long ago steeled my heart
against the fascinations of those bewitching little sprites who never
stay two seconds in one spot, and sternly resolved never, _never_ to get
interested in a warbler.

My companion, however, was not so philosophical or so cool. She never
could withstand the flit of a warbler wing; she would follow for half a
day the absurd but enchanting little trill; and she regularly went mad
(so to speak) at every migration, over the hundred or two, more or
less, varieties that made this wood a resting-place on their way. Now, I
could resist the birds by never looking at them, but I could not resist
my friend's enthusiasm; so when she started on a warbler trail, I
generally followed, as a matter of course. And I admit that the blue, to
which we shortened his name, was a beauty and a charming singer.

I passed quietly up the road toward the continued low calls, and soon
saw the student, not far from the path, in a clearer spot than usual,
sitting against a maple sapling, with her four-foote