THE SUBMERGED TENTH 



shows the Gull with its bill thrust down into an 

 egg, and a single Grebe in the water just beyond 

 watching attentively what was probably the spolia- 

 tion of its home. Perhaps it was fear of the camera 

 that prevented the naturally expected attack upon 

 the marauder. 



Another plate had then to be inserted, which 

 I finally exposed when a party of Grebes were 

 swimming by, just in front of the nests. These 

 were the only two pictures secured in the greater 

 part of a day of hard labour and nerve-wearing toil. 

 After this the thread became almost hopelessly 

 tangled, and, despite long, exasperating effort, I 

 got only another fogged plate at about sundown. 

 And it was the last chance, too. Then, as I was 

 taking up the camera, at eight o'clock and after, it 

 dawned upon me that I had forgotten to eat my 

 dinner, though I had it with me in the boat. 

 When I returned to camp almost at dark, the com- 

 pany made merry over a fellow so much interested 

 in birds that he needed a caretaker to remind him 

 when he must eat. " A veritable rustic," perhaps 

 the Grebes had been saying, staring all day, open- 

 mouthed and absent-minded, at the sights of their 

 great city. 



Within ten miles of this spot was another 

 equally interesting, though very different Grebe-city. 

 Extending far out from the shore, in water waist 

 deep or more, grew a great area of canes, ten or 

 twelve feet high. To get at it from where we had 

 pitched our tent, I had first to wade across an arm 



is 



