Ahead of us a blue jay, that tattler of the woods, flashes his blue
coat in and out among the trees; always saucy, impertinent, and
suspicious, bubbling over with something important to tell, and afraid
he will not be the first to tell it. When he discovers us watching, he
sets up his clamorous cry of "Thief! Thief!" and hurries away to
spread the alarm. A mighty borrower of trouble, this gayly dressed
harlequin of the woods, and yet the forest would not seem complete
without his gay blue vestments.

Suddenly we find ourselves in a cul-de-sac; the trail coming to an
abrupt end. We retrace our steps, and after much searching, find a
narrow trail almost hidden by vines and underbrush. Venturing in, we
follow its tortuous and uneven course along the edge of the cañon,
and, as the evening shadows gather, and the stars come out one by one,
tired and dust-covered, we reach the valley, and enjoy the moonlight
ride across the bay to San Francisco.




[Illustration]

Cañon and Hillside


Did you ever see the Berkeley hills in the early morning, just before
the sun comes stealing over their rounded domes, or in the evening,
just before it sinks beneath the waters of the bay, and casts its
waning light over their rugged sides?