The Submerged Tenth 



We were driving from our camp on the wind- 

 swept plain by Rush Lake to a small lake, or 

 ''slough," some miles farther to the west, which a 

 settler had told us swarmed with birds. At length 

 it lay before us, a third of a mile of open water, 

 with a large grassy island in the centre. Many 

 Ducks, Coots and Grebes were in sight; but on the 

 shore of the island were the most birds — a great 

 flock fairly darkening the area. 



Not being able to decide from that distance what 

 they were, I resolved to wade out to them. Now 

 Dakota "sloughs" — as marshy ponds are there 

 called, pronounced "sloo" — are generally quite 

 shallow; but a few steps into this one made it evi- 

 dent that boots here were of no avail. It was 

 pretty cold to strip for the task, and the water telt 

 like ice ; but the prospect of getting out in the sun 

 upon the shore of the island before coming back de- 

 cided me in favour of the project and I started in. 

 At every step difficulties increased. The water be- 

 came breast deep, and was hlled from bottom to 

 surface with decaying vegetation. After every half 

 dozen steps I had to stop and clear myself from 

 the great island that had collected about me. For 

 fifteen minutes I struggled on, chilled, but intent 

 upon reaching the sunny island shore, where I could 

 don the garment I held up out of the water, and 

 examine at my leisure the many nests which I 

 expected to find. 



As I came to the edge of an area of long grass 

 that had hidden from me what was beyond, a won- 

 derful sight met my eyes. The water seemed liter- 

 ally alive with birds, swimming or floating upon its 



3 



