An hour later the little wild family stole 

 shyly out of the haven where they had hid- 

 den, and found me sitting quietly just where 

 I had first appeared. If they were surprised 

 or uneasy, they gave no sign of their feelings 

 beyond a bright, inquisitive look, but swam 

 slowly past me and climbed the bank where 

 it was worn hard by their feet, and started 

 across the barren on their clay's foraging. 

 For hours I followed them, keeping out of 

 sight as much as possible, watching with 

 keenest interest their feeding and discipline, 

 and noting especially the crude beginnings 

 of that wedge formation with which they 

 would later make their first long flight south- 

 ward ahead of the autumn gales. 



Wherever they went, Waptonk, the big 

 gander, was near them, hovering on the out- 

 skirts, or watching over them keenly from 

 every little hillock that commanded a wider 

 view of the great barren. He ate but little, 

 and apparently only incidentally. His whole 

 business seemed to be to guard his little flock 

 while the mother led them about to feed, or 

 trained them to the perfect discipline that 



209 



In Quest of 



