THE KILLDEER 



that a plate had been saved, for there would have been nothing on 

 it. 



No record was kept of the trials we gave him or the different 

 methods we used. We worked two and one-half hours over him. 

 We were bathed in perspiration, crimson in our faces, breathless, 

 our hats lost, our clothing torn on the bushes, our hands and faces 

 scratched, our feet bruised and twisted with the stones, and just 

 before us that little dandy, in his elaborate suit, moved like a tiny 

 airship, fresh as at the start. He traveled as easily as a puff of 

 thistledown rolling before the wind. 



"We can keep this up for ever " I began. 



"No, we can't," interrupted Molly-cotton. "The sun is so hot 

 I am getting so dizzy I can't see. Ill step on him next." 



She was right. We were so tired we were in danger of stum- 

 bling and hurting the bird, while he was a born runner and could 

 keep on all day. 



He had crossed one big stone repeatedly. I usually twisted 

 my foot in going over it. I left Molly-cotton to watch the baby 

 and focused sharply on that stone, heaping sand against it with 

 my hands, so that he could run up on it easily. There were 

 bushes back of it, and stones and rotten wood were piled among 

 them until a thick wall was formed. Then a focusing cloth was 

 staked before the camera, so that he would not run toward that, 

 the shutter moved up to the one five-hundredth of a second and 

 Molly-cotton asked to turn him slowly and carefully that way 

 once again. The first time he crossed was a failure. 



I manqeuvered him back, and Molly-cotton turned him toward 

 the stone again. Twice he darted past. That was stopped by 

 blocking the path he took with pieces of wood. The fourth time 

 Molly-cotton headed him my way, I moved closer to the stone than 



71 



