started down the river. For miles she sneaked through the
underbrush, and watched and listened; until at last night came,
and she returned to Rainbow Bottom. The next morning she set out
early and flew to the spot from which she had turned back the
night before. From there she glided through the bushes and
underbrush, trembling and quaking, yet pushing stoutly onward,
straining her ears for some note of the brilliant stranger's.

It was mid-forenoon when she reached the region of the sumac, and
as she hopped warily along, only a short distance from her, full
and splendid, there burst the voice of the singer for whom she
was searching. She sprang into air, and fled a mile before she
realized that she was flying. Then she stopped and listened, and
rolling with the river, she heard those bold true tones. Close
to earth, she went back again, to see if, unobserved, she could
find a spot where she might watch the stranger that had kissed
her. When at last she reached a place where she could see him
plainly, his beauty was so bewildering, and his song so enticing
that she gradually hopped closer and closer without knowing she
was moving.

High in the sumac the Cardinal had sung until his throat was
parched, and the fountain of hope was almost dry. There was
nothing save defeat from overwhelming numbers in Rainbow Bottom.
He had paraded, and made all the music he ever had been taught,
and improvised much more. Yet no one had come to seek him. Was
it of necessity to be the Limberlost then? This one day more he
would retain his dignity and his location. He tipped, tilted,
and flirted. He whistled, and sang, and trilled. Over the
lowland and up and down the shining river, ringing in every