Page:Edison Marshall--Shepherds of the wild.djvu/33

Rh inside of him. He was a born kleptomaniac, and he was simply fascinated by the number of bright and interesting things lying about the ashes of the dead fire. He began to have all manner of pleasing conjectures in regard to them. Like many gentlemen-of-fortune in the Parisian underworld he had a long ancestry of famous criminals; and now he remembered certain advice his mother had given him when he was a fledgling in the nest.

"If ever you find a camp of men," one can imagine the old mother-bird chirping, as she flicked her tail here and there, "fly right down into it. You will have more fun than you ever had in your life before."

These were men: no other supposition remained. The camp-robber squawked once, in enthusiasm, and sailed down to the ground beside the prone figure.

The result was rather astonishing. For the second at least Hugh Gaylord forgot the late tragedy to his last bottle of bourbon. A smile that was singularly winning and boyish played around his lips.

It was not quite Gaylord's way to smile at such little things as this. It usually required a very keen jest from a clever comedian in a musical comedy to draw a smile from him. Strangest of all, he hadn't been in the least in the humor for gaiety since the first day he had come to these stern, lonely mountains.