XVI 



THE BULLFROG 



THE flooded expanse of the marshes 

 has shrunken perceptibly along its shore- 

 ward boundaries, leaving a mat of dead 

 weeds, bits of driftwood, and a water- 

 worn selvage of bare earth to mark its 

 widest limits. The green tips of the 

 rushes are thrust above the amber shal- 

 lows, whereon flotillas of water-shield lie 

 anchored in the sun, while steel-blue 

 devil's-needles sew the warm air with 

 intangible threads of zigzag flight. 



The meshed shadows of the water- 

 maples are full of the reflections of the 

 green and silver of young leaves. The 

 naked tangle of button-bushes has be- 

 come a green island, populous with gar- 

 rulous colonies of redwings. The great 

 flocks of wild ducks that came to the 

 reopened waters have had their holiday 

 rest, and journeyed onward to summer 

 homes and cares in the further north. 

 66 



