92 THE CLERK OF THE WOODS 



lie remarked after a while, as a man and a 

 dog crossed the road just before us. " Any 

 birds to-day, Cy ? " he inquired. The man 

 nodded a silent affirmative a very unusual 

 admission for a Yankee sportsman to make, 

 according to my experience. 



I was hardly on foot before I began to 

 find traces of this good man's work. The 

 first bird I saw was a sandpiper with one 

 whig dragging on the ground. Near it was 

 an unharmed companion which, even when 

 I crowded it a little hard, showed no dis- 

 position to consult its own safety. " Well 

 done," said I. " ' There is a friend that 

 sticketh closer than a brother.' " 



A few steps more, and a larger bird 

 stirred amid the short marsh herbage be- 

 yond the muddy flat a black-bellied plover, 

 or " beetle-head." He also must be disabled, 

 I thought, to be staying in such a place ; 

 and perhaps he was. At all events he would 

 not fly, but edged about me in a half circle, 

 with the wariest kind of motions (there was 

 no sign of cover for him, the grass coming 

 no more than to his knees), always with his 

 big black eye fastened upon me, while my 



