I am glad now to think that I never saw that nest, though it was
scarcely ten yards from my tent, until after the young had flown, and
Killooleet cared no more about it. I knew the bush in which it was,
close by the deer path; could pick out from my fireplace the thick
branch that sheltered it; for I often watched the birds coming and
going. I have no doubt that Killooleet would have welcomed me there
without fear; but his mate never laid aside her shyness about it,
never went to it directly when I was looking, and I knew he would like
me better if I respected her little secret.

Soon, from the mate's infrequent visits, and from the amount of food
which Killooleet took away with him, I knew she was brooding her eggs.
And when at last both birds came together, and, instead of helping
themselves hungrily, each took the largest morsel he could carry and
hurried away to the nest, I knew that the little ones were come; and I
spread the plate more liberally, and moved it away to the foot of the
old cedar, where Killooleet's mate would not be afraid to come at any
time.

One day, not long after, as I sat at a late breakfast after the
morning's fishing, there was a great stir in the underbrush. Presently
Killooleet came skipping out, all fuss and feathers, running back and
forth with an air of immense importance between the last bush and the
plate by the cedar, crying out in his own way, "Here it is, here it
is, all right, just by the old tree as usual. Crackers, trout, brown
bread, porridge; come on, come on; don't be afraid. _He's_ here, but
he won't harm. I know him. Come on, come on!"

Soon his little gray mate appeared under the last bush, and after much
circumspection came hopping towards the breakfast; and after her, in a