A CALIFORNIA BEACH 



were not making use of tools, they were coming 

 within an inch of it. 



They quarreled now and then over the busi- 

 ness, and once two of them faced each other, bill 

 to bill, like game-cocks, a most unusual proceed- 

 ing among waders, firing off little fusillades of 

 exclamations meanwhile. It is hard for animals 

 of any kind, boys, dogs, roosters, or what-not, to 

 carry on a fight in silence. The tongue must 

 have its part in the contention. The turnstones' 

 disagreements were of the briefest, however, 

 slight ebullitions of temper rather than any ac- 

 tual belligerency. 



Once one of them squatted flat on the sand 

 for a spell, an attitude which looked a thousand 

 times more restful than standing on one leg. A 

 sensible bird, I called him. Rather more sensi- 

 ble, perhaps, than a little green-backed crab that 

 just then, or shortly after, sidled under the shank 

 of my boot for shelter when I prodded him gently 

 with a stick. Again and again he repeated this 

 masterly stroke of strategy, about as clever, I 

 dare say, as many of our human attempts at con- 

 cealment are likely to appear in the eyes of any 

 higher intelligences that may be looking on. 



All in all, the turnstones must have made a 

 substantial meal while I watched them. But, 

 whether they did or not, they gave me a pleasant 

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