‘THe WHITE-WINGED FLEET 
a considerable wagon journey only to find that the 
Gulls had been so persecuted that they had not 
returned that season, but had moved off somewhere 
else. This was very disappointing, and to this trial 
was added being caught on the return trip in the 
most terrific thunderstorm I was ever out in, or ever 
wish to be. ‘The wind blew over houses, and the 
rain almost filled the body of the wagon. If ever 
we were soaked it was then. We had to sleep ina 
barn that night and two nights more ere we got 
back to headquarters. Much further search had 
already been in vain. 
This only served to whet my desire the more 
for the Franklin’s Gull, and when I decided last 
season to visit Dakota again, I redoubled my in- 
quiries. Finally I heard of a young man who prob- 
ably had the desired information. Imagine my 
delight when I received one day a note to the effect 
that he knew of a large colony of thousands of the 
Franklin’s Gull, and would guide me there if I 
would come to his house. 
At the earliest possible moment we started off, 
three of us, with broncos and buckboard,—this 
time without the boat,—for the drive of fifty miles. 
The site the Gulls had chosen was at one end of a 
large lake a number of miles long. At length we 
approached the timber on its margin. On the left 
a settler was ploughing, and about twenty Gulls 
were following him close behind, and feeding in 
the furrows. On the right, down a steep bank, lay 
the lake, a long area, over a mile wide, with some 
open water and grass growing from it in extended 
tracts. The distant murmur of many bird-voices 
159 
