302 FISH OUT OF WATEB 



FISH OUT OF WATER 



Steolling one day in what is euphemistically termed, in 

 equatorial latitudes, ' the cool of the evening,' along a 

 tangled tropical American field-path, through a low region 

 of lagoons and watercourses, my attention happened to be 

 momentarily attracted from the monotonous pursuit of 

 the nimble mosquito by a small animal scuttling along 

 irregularly before me, as if in a great hurry to get out 

 of my way before I could turn him into an excellent 

 specimen. At first sight I took the little hopper, in the 

 grey dusk, for one of the common, small green lizards, 

 and wasn't much disposed to pay it any distinguished 

 share either of personal or scientific attention. But as I 

 walked on a little further through the dense underbrush, 

 more and more of these shuffling and scurrying little 

 creatures kept crossing the path, hastily, all in one di- 

 rection, and all, as it were, in a formed body or marching 

 phalanx. Looking closer, to my great surprise, I found 

 they were actually fish out of water, going on a walking 

 tour, for change of air, to a new residence — genuine fish, 

 a couple of inches long each, not eel- shaped or serpen- 

 tine in outline, but closely resembling a red mullet in 

 miniature, though much more beautifully and delicately 

 coloured, and with fins and tails of the most orthodox 

 spiny and prickly description. They were travelling 

 across country in a bee-line, thousands of them together, 



