EYES AND NO EYES 35 
that glided through the bunch of king-cups ? No, it 
shows for one moment, flirting up its tail ; it is a 
spotted crake, the very bird I had tried in vain to get. 
Cold spring water was freely used to my face and 
hands for some time after leaving that pool-side tangle. 
Birds do not very often come to those who are looking 
for them ; you have to go to them, if you can get 
there. 
It is winter, hard, bitter winter ; the snow covers 
the shingle on the beach above high water-mark ; the 
sky is lead colour, and the water looks like ink, broken 
at times by the spiteful spit of the crests of the waves, 
that can barely lift, because the wind is blowing down 
on them, right on shore. When the waves break, they 
run up with a hissing noise that tells plainly what is 
coming. 
They rush like huge snakes up to the snow-line 
on the beach, sending blinding salt spray in all direc- 
tions ; and rush back again, the stones rattling on the 
beach as though an express were at full speed there. 
It is a gale already ; it will be bad presently ; these 
signs are only preliminary ones, for the waters from 
the North Sea will come roaring in, a little later, up 
to the sand dunes. A dreary look-out there is a long 
stretch as far as the eye can reach of snow, dark sky, 
and darker water. In the foreground are a few blocks 
