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 
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”’ 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 felt 
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 filled 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 
a great 
