re two young ones in the bottom of the
nest."

I put Lucien down on the ground, so that he might go to l'Encuerado, who
was calling him. The Indian had found a humming-bird's nest fixed on a
branch, which he had cut off and was bringing us. The elegant little
structure was a perfect marvel of architectural skill, lined inside with
the silky down of some plant. Two young birds, still unfledged, and
scarcely as big as nuts, opened their beaks as if to ask for food. I
directed l'Encuerado to replace the branch on the tree from whence he
had cut it, and to fasten it so that it could not fall down. I followed
him, to make sure he did it rightly. As soon as we came near the shrub,
the mother fluttered all round the Indian, and at last settled down,
panting, on her young brood.

"You're a brave bird!" cried the Indian, "and I ask your pardon for
having carried away your house. Don't be afraid, my name is l'Encuerado,
and you may safely trust in me. Don't tremble! I would sooner be hurt
myself than cause you the least harm. There, now you are all firmly
fixed again, and you may live in peace. Your little ones can tell you
that I have not teased them; I only wanted to show them to Chanito.
Good-bye, Senor _Huitzitzilin_! you are a brave bird, and it's I,
l'Encuerado, who tells you so!"

And the Indian went away, saluting the valiant mother with so many waves
of his hat that the poor bird must have thought her last hour had come.

"What do these beautiful little birds feed upon, M. Sumichrast?"

"On the juices of flowers and small insects. Look! there is one
hovering, and its wings are moving too fast for us to see them. Don't
stir! I see a branch so covered with blue flowers that it can hardly
fail to attract the bird. Now it is settled above one of the corollas,
and plunges its head into it without ceasing to beat with its wings. Its
cloven tongue soon sucks out the honey concealed in the flower, and its
little ones will greet it when it gets back with open beaks to receive
their share of the spoil."

"They are funny birds, those," said l'Encuerado to Lucien. "In three
months--that is, in October--they will go to sleep, and will not wake up
till April."

"Is that true, father?"

"I rather fancy that they migrate."

[Illustration: "And the Indian went away, saluting."]

"Now don't teach Chanito wrongly," said l'Encuerado, repeating a
common phrase of mine; "the _huitzitzilins_ do not migrate; they go to
sleep."

"