WHERE RUNS THE TIDE. 207 



was surprised to find many " peeps" in the grass and 

 along the banks of the creek. They were extremely 

 active, rather wild, and appeared to obey the warn- 

 ing calls of a pair of killdeers that screamed and 

 screeched and were altogether rude and boister- 

 ous, particularly when, stooping to wash my face, I 

 slipped and fell headlong into the water. Perhaps 

 they were frightened, but I fancied that they were 

 jeering me, and my temper was not improved. 

 After I had regained my equilibrium and was other- 

 wise ready for an outing, I went to look for the 

 " peeps," and found them feeding on little islands 

 in this creek. They would not permit a very near 

 approach, but my field-glass solved the question of 

 their identity. The next day there was a moderate 

 amount of sunshine, and my companion and myself 

 wandered several miles from camp, at one place 

 climbing a high hill, where we tarried for some time 

 enjoying the scenery, which was beautiful. Hills 

 rose above hills, and at our feet lay a wide valley 

 rich with warm colors, while the monotone of the 

 wind as it passed through the leafless trees was sel- 

 dom broken, save by a song-sparrow or the wild cry 

 of a wary hawk. While seated on a huge project- 

 ing mass of rock in the middle of a green pasture, 

 there came a shadow and a sound that stopped our 

 conversation. Looking up, we saw a flock of 

 " peeps" just above our heads, and, though it may 

 have been but fancy on my part, they seemed to 

 look down as inquiringly at us as we did after them 

 until lost in the distance. 



