IN THE OOZY PLACES 161 



canvas, and proceeded to enjoy ourselves. We 

 did not have a fish for dinner as intended, even 

 though we had spun a troll over some of the best 

 spots. But no matter. We were playing In- 

 dian; and to-morrow we would be hungrier and 

 fish more successfully. 



It was good to lie there after dinner and watch 

 the white Franklin gulls, with their black-tipped 

 wings, and the dusky terns go by, clear-cut 

 against the blue heavens or fleecy cloud-drift, 

 and to listen to the marsh noises. Chief of the 

 noise-makers of the marsh were the coots. Their 

 voices drowned the best effort of the ducks, black- 

 birds, rails, and waders all combined. " Good- 

 drink good-drink," repeated ad infinitum, al- 

 ways seems to me the burden of their song, and 

 they make up in repetition what they lack in rep- 

 ertoire. Once, early in the month of May, I 

 spent a night out, camped beside a long chain of 

 sloughs, and by morning I was about willing to 

 swear that not once during the entire night did 

 those creatures cease from their infernal " Good- 

 drinking" long enough to even take breath. 

 However, their vocal performances grow less as 

 the season advances, and by August they are 

 only unreasonably noisy. 



