"Are you sure that is what it is?" she asked in hushed tones.
"Absolutely positive," replied the authority, "at least—if I could only get a nearer view of his feet, I could speak with certainty. Now, if we could surround the bush, so to speak, you creeping up from one side and I from the other, we might get nearer to him. I will make a détour to your driveway, and so get on the other side of him. You approach him from the house."
"Just let me get my rubbers," said Mrs. Mayo.
"Please hurry," the other returned.
When the rubbers were procured they commenced their strategic movement. "If I could only be sure that it is the Bulbus!" ejaculated Mr. Kookle.
Mrs. Mayo turned toward him.
"Do you suppose," she whispered, "that it is the great condor of the Andes?"
Mr. Kookle shook his head.
Then they both started again on their stealthy errand. Slowly, quietly, they proceeded until they stood opposite each other, with the syringa and its strange visitant half-way between them. Then Mr. Kookle raised his hand as a signal, and they began to approach the bush. The bird seemed to hear them, for he immediately took interest in the proceedings. He raised his head, hopped out from the bush, and uttered a peculiar, hoarse note that sounded like:
"Craw-w-w-w!"