24 THE BROOK BOOK 



fortable. Without further delay I washed them off 

 in the current and saw no more of them. What a 

 story of adventure they might have told if they 

 had gone back to their fellows on the stone ! 



It is surprising how quickly one loses the old 

 horror of squirming things when once the spirit of 

 investigation is awakened. Ever since that mem- 

 orable first visit to Stony Brook I find that no liv- 

 ing thing, however < dull and repulsive it may seem 

 to the casual observer, is without interest and even 

 beauty to me Now that I know each insect has 

 a wonderful life history, and is so marvelously 

 adapted to its conditions, my disgust has changed 

 to admiration and my fear to respect. 



I had a wide -mouthed bottle with me which I 

 now filled with water. Using my fingers more 

 skilfully this time I scooped out a dozen or more of 

 the creatures and transferred them to the bottle. 

 I found that they gave up their hold on the rocks 

 rather easily, and wondered that they were not all 

 washed down stream long ago by the current. It 

 seemed a dangerous place for such weaklings to 

 cling, if they did cling. How did they do it and 

 why were they there, deceiving the credulous wan- 

 derer and challenging her with their mysterious 

 behavior? 



"The Professor will know them and will help 

 me find out their story," I thought, as I gazed at 

 the bottle. My "things" proved to be almost 

 black, cylindrical, worm-like creatures about three- 

 fourths of an inch long and not very fat, perhaps 

 as large in diameter as a Japanese toothpick. 



