202 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 



down the Popihacka, now Watson's Creek, for some dis- 

 tance, a mist hung over the muddy flats and the water. 

 Even at a comparatively short distance objects were ob- 

 scured, but still we were not at a loss as to the proper 

 direction to take, for the clear notes of several sandpipers 

 could be heard, and these guided us. 



Uz listened for several minutes to these sounds, and 

 then quietly remarked, " The plovers are not with them, 

 to-day, and we'll have better luck." 



" Why ? " I asked ; for it was a decided surprise to 

 me, to hear him say this. 



" Simply because those little plovers are a great deal 

 quicker witted than ' teeters ' of any sort, big or little. 

 I'll tell you more about them, after a bit." 



Until the fog lifted, of course nothing could be done ; 

 but we had not long to wait, and soon we were able to 

 mark the movements of troops of sandpipers running 

 hither and thither up and down the sand. We took up 

 our places, at points considerably apart, and approached 

 each other, keeping a troop of teeters between us. When 

 within twenty yards, the birds would take wing, and gen- 

 erally afford a shot to one or the other of us, before they 

 had flown over the water or out of reach. In this way 

 we bagged a score in a little while, but they soon became 

 wild, and the shooting grew quite monotonous. In the 

 course of two hours we were ready to quit, and before 

 the day became really oppressive we were homeward 

 bound. The birds that we had shot were the least sand- 

 piper, the spotted, several " solitaries," and two of that 

 curious form known as the " sanderling." 



As we were sculling homeward, I reminded Uz of 

 his promise concerning the plovers, and as we moved 

 slowly up the creek he told me the following as one of 

 his experiences : 



