. The trail book . r out ofthe sky into the deep water which could be seencradling fresh and blue beyond the islets. One byone the pelicans swung seaward, beating their broadwings all in time like the stroke of rowers, goingto fish in the clean tides outside of the lagoons. The nests of the flamingoes lay open to the sunexcept where here and there dozed a broodingmother. Dont you know any not-sad stories? askedDorcas, as the Egret showed signs again of tuckingher head under her wing. Not about the Iron Shirts, said the or Portuguese or English; it was alwaysan unhappy ending for
. The trail book . r out ofthe sky into the deep water which could be seencradling fresh and blue beyond the islets. One byone the pelicans swung seaward, beating their broadwings all in time like the stroke of rowers, goingto fish in the clean tides outside of the lagoons. The nests of the flamingoes lay open to the sunexcept where here and there dozed a broodingmother. Dont you know any not-sad stories? askedDorcas, as the Egret showed signs again of tuckingher head under her wing. Not about the Iron Shirts, said the or Portuguese or English; it was alwaysan unhappy ending for the 223 THE TRAIL BOOK Oh, said Dorcas, disappointed; and then shereflected, If they had nt come, though, I dontsuppose we would be here either. Ill tell you, said the Man-of-War Bird, whowas a great traveler, they did nt all land on thiscoast. Some of them landed in Mexico and marchednorth into your country. Ive heard things fromgulls at Panuco. You dont know what the landbirds might be able to tell XIII HOW THE IRON SHIRTS CAME LOOKING FOR THE SEVEN CITIES OF CIBOLA; TOLD BY THE ROAD-RUNNER FROM Cay Verde in the Bahamas to the desert ofNew Mexico, by the Museum trail, is around acorner and past two windows that look out uponthe west. As the children stood waiting for theRoad-Runner to notice them, they found the viewnot very different from the one they had justleft. Unending, level sands ran into waves, andstrange shapes of rocks loomed through the desertblueness like steep-shored islands. It was vast andterrifying like the sea, and yet a very pleasantfurred and feathered life appeared to be going onthere between the round-headed cactus, with itscruel fishhook thorns, and the warning, blood-red THE TRAIL BOOK blossoms that dripped from the ocatilla. Littlefrisk-tailed things ran up and down the spineyshrubs, and a woodpecker, who had made his nestin its pithy stalk, peered at them from a tall sahuaro. The Road-Runner tilted his long rudder-liketail, flattened
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