“Look here!” I called to Hall, who was several yards in advance. He turned, and I held up the bird by a wing.
“Where did you get that?” he asked.
“It fell at my feet a moment ago.”
Hall glanced in a startled manner at the sky, and then down the slope of the mountain.
“Did you notice in what direction it was flying?” he asked.
“No, it dropped so close that it almost grazed my nose. I saw nothing of it until it made me blink.”
“I have been heedless,” muttered Hall under his breath. At the time I did not notice the singularity of his remark, my attention being absorbed in contemplating the unfortunate tanager.
“Look how its feathers are scorched,” I said.
“I know it,” Hall replied, without glancing at the bird.
“And it is covered with a film of artemisium,” I added, a little piqued by his abstraction.