t
remember when I did not know what that song was! It is such a crazy
bird! It has only two tunes and is like our teacher at school. She
either praises or else scolds us. And that is the way with the cat bird.
It is either talking love to its mate, or else abusing it! I don't like
such people or such birds; I like those who have more tunes. Now thee
has a lot of tunes, Pepeeta!"

This quaint reflection and delicate compliment broke the bird's spell
and made Pepeeta laugh,--a laugh as musical and sweet as the song of the
bird itself. It passed through the fringe of trees along the river bank,
rippled across it over against the smooth face of a cliff and came back
sweetly on the spring air.

"Oh! did you hear the echo?" Pepeeta exclaimed.

"That is what I brought thee here for!" he said. "Uncle David taught me
how to make it answer and told me what it was. It frightened me at
first. Let us get close up to the water and listen!"

He took her by the hand and drew her along.

"Is it here that you are to tell me the secret?" she asked.

"Oh, no," he said. "The echo tells its secrets! It is nothing but a blab
any way. But I do not tell mine until the right time comes! Thee must
wait."

They came out upon the edge of the river which makes a sweep around a
sharp corner on the opposite side of which was "Echo Rock." There they
stood and shouted and laughed as their voices came back upon the still
air softened and etherealized.

Becoming tired of this sport at last, the boy picked up a flat stone
from the river's edge and said, "Can thee skip a stone, Pepeeta? I never
saw a girl that could skip a stone."

"But I am not a girl," she said.

"Oh, but thee was a girl once, and if thee did not learn then thee
cannot do it now. Come, let me see thee try. Here is a stone, and a
beauty, too; round, flat and smooth. That stone ought to make sixteen
jumps!"

"But you must show me how," she said.

"All right, I will," he replied, and sent one skimming along the smooth
surface of the water.

"Beautiful," she said, clapping her hands as it bounded in ever
diminishing saltations and with a finer skill than that of Giotto, drew
perfect circles on the watery canvas.

Delighted with the applause, the child found another stone and gave it
to Pepeeta. She took it, drew her hand back and tossed it awkwardly from
her shoulder. It sank with a dull plunge into the stream, while out of
the throat of the lad came a great and joyous shou