190 OUT WITH THE BIRDS 



made in the dark, placid stream such a perfect, 

 inverted image that one could not but imagine 

 himself in a world of unreal things, afloat in a 

 magic bark ; as we slipped out of the creek mouth 

 and headed for the woods across on the distant 

 horizon, the open lake was no less calm — a huge 

 upturned mirror, lying upon the yellow plains. 



Hushed evening held for a little time — the 

 gulls in scattered companies riding at rest for 

 the night ; the sleepy terns perched on the pond- 

 weed patches; a raft of young scoters, or duck 

 flock here and there; the garooing of a flock of 

 cranes as they settled on their night-roost; far 

 ahead from the darkening woods, the tuneful 

 voice of some girl camper, singing over the water 

 — then darkness settled upon it all, and August 

 was gone. 



