A Bit of River 81 



the gargoyle of the human athlete, the monkey, 

 holds undisputed sway. 



Nor does our river lose its charm upon the death 

 of the day. The most brilliant songsters may be- 

 come silent, but the night creatures are active and 

 interesting. If one drifts between the darkened 

 walls in a canoe as the harvest moon peers across 

 misty fields, he will hear much that is worth hear- 

 ing. The leaves hang motionless, wearied of all- 

 day dancing. The water spreads like oil into black, 

 uncertain shadows. The trees upon one bank stand 

 like silhouettes against the growing light, while the 

 opposite foliage brightens with countless silvery 

 flashes. 



From bank to bank wages Cicada's endless dispute 

 over Katy's alleged indiscretion, interrupted every 

 now and then by a bellowing " B'ject ! " from some 

 lawyer frog who fancies the prosecution is trans- 

 gressing. A long, hissing fall, ending in an ex- 

 plosive " Boo-oom ! " tells where the night-hawk is 

 playing in the moonlight, while his cousin, whip- 

 poor-will, sobs for satisfaction from every dusky 

 point. High above, a singing of wings betrays the 

 course of a party of belated wood-ducks, and a pair 

 of great horned owls prolong gruff throaty argu- 

 ment over the affairs of the night. A startled kill- 

 deer makes musical protest against some unknown 

 intruder ; a sandpiper takes up the case as a family 

 matter, which rouses a sleepy sparrow, which, from 

 sheer force of habit, tinkles a thread of song ere 

 again dropping off. 



A broad-fanned gray heron questions another 

 ghostly form regarding the fishing farther up, and 



