WITH THE WADERS 97 



discourse," so wise and good that he nat- 

 urally thinks of the Creator of all things as 

 a person very like himself, finds it amusing 

 to kill. 



And when I came to the few rods of 

 beach, there stood my seven sandpipers, 

 exactly as before. They stirred uneasily 

 under my gaze, whispering a few words to 

 one another ("Will he shoot, do you 

 think?"), but they kept their places, 

 bunched closely together for safety. Did 

 they know anything about their lonely 

 brother or sister up yonder on the hill- 

 side? If they noticed her absence, they 

 probably supposed her dead. Death is so 

 common and so sudden, especially hi migra- 

 tion time. 



Now I am back again on a grassy mound 

 by the muddy flats, and the big plover is 

 still here. How alert he looks as he sees 

 me approach! Yet now, as an hour ago, 

 he shows no inclination to fly. The tide is 

 coming in fast. He steps about in the 

 deepening water with evident discomfort, and 

 whether he will or not, he must soon take 

 to whig or wade ashore. And while I am 



