THE SELKIRK SETTLERS 99

clear up everything eatable, but I could not eat that salad, and I could not tell her why, either. How could I explain that from the greenish foliage on my plate an impertinent little green worm had stood up and positively waved at me? I could not eat that worm. Neither could I deprive him of shelter by eating up his leafy home.

In the farm yard over on the left, a rooster flew up on a clothes line, intending to use it as a pulpit from which he could venture his opinion of present-day hen habits. He was one of life’s unfortunates. Every time he got settled and opened his beak, a gust of wind playfully upset him off his perch. With a great flapping of wings and a voice of annoyance he returned speedily to Mother Earth. Several times he mounted only to be forced to open his parachute for immediate descent. At last, in despair, he gave up. And from his lowlier station amid his flock, he crowed with great gusto.

It seemed to be a day for flats. The first was a fellow cyclist’s. His bike was a rickety affair with a sheepskin saddle. He himself was suffering from “saddleitis.” His tire was not exactly flat. The air pressure was just low, and his bicycle pump would not work. Mine would not work either, but I lent it to him. He soon fixed it and pumped up his tire. We rode on.

“ My good deed done for to—day, " I remarked gaily.

“Or his,” said Jean significantly.

Further on, we met a tourist with a flat——and we stopped again to help. He was angry. There was no doubt about it. About half a mile off we could see and hear quite distinctly that he was angry.

O. I.—8