and up and down; we follow him, often losing him, and as often
refinding him by his song; but the clew to his nest, how shall we get
it? Does he never go home to see how things are getting on, or to see
if his presence is not needed, or to take madam a morsel of food? No
doubt he keeps within earshot, and a cry of distress or alarm from the
mother bird would bring him to the spot in an instant. Would that some
evil fate would make her cry, then! Presently he encounters a rival.
His feeding-ground infringes upon that of another, and the two birds
regard each other threateningly. This is a good sign, for their nests
are evidently near.

Their battle-cry is a low, peculiar chirp, not very fierce, but
bantering and confident. They quickly come to blows, but it is a very
fantastic battle, and, as it would seem, indulged in more to satisfy
their sense of honor than to hurt each other, for neither party gets
the better of the other, and they separate a few paces and sing, and
squeak, and challenge each other in a very happy frame of mind. The
gauntlet is no sooner thrown down than it is again taken up by one or
the other, and in the course of fifteen or twenty minutes they have
three or four encounters, separating a little, then provoked to return
again like two cocks, till finally they withdraw beyond hearing of each
other,--both, no doubt, claiming the victory. But the secret of the
nest is still kept. Once I think I have it. I catch a glimpse of a bird
which looks like the female, and near by, in a small hemlock about
eight feet from the ground, my eye detects a nest. But as I come up
under it, I can see daylight through it, and that it is empty,--
evidently only part finished, not lined or padded yet. Now if the bird
will only return and claim it, the point will be gained. But we wait
and watch in vain. The architect has knocked off to-day, and we must
come again, or continue our search.