of the wild life; persecuted people seldom do, having their own hard case too much in mind; but Fred knew the name of nearly every bird and animal that showed itself, and even ceased smoking as his interest increased.
"Ever go fishing as a boy?" he asked.
"Didn't I?"
"Get up before daylight and escape from the house by the back way—"
"Stealing bread and cheese from the pantry on the way out—"
"And stopping where the grass was long near the watering place to dig worms—"
"And unchain the dog with frantic efforts to keep him from barking—"
"Yes, but the rascal always would do it—bark and wake everybody! Lucky if nobody saw you as you slipped through the gate into the fields!"
"Ah! But then what a time the dog had—it was almost as good fun as the fishing to watch him scamper. And how hungry he got—and he ate more than his share of the bread and cheese, so that you'd have had to go home early because of the aching void if it hadn't been for the cottage where they gave a fellow milk out of a brown dish."
"Yumm! Didn't that country milk taste good! Snff-snff—they were mornings just like this at home when I went fishing. Cool and sweet and full of scent. Snff-snff!"
We sat still behind the ledge and let the air and scenery revive kind memories. The only noise was what our horses made cropping the grass in a hollow behind us. for the Armenians were well content to ruminate. Most likely they would have fallen asleep if we had not
