THE LONE FISHER 



kingfisher now as his strong wings carried him along close 

 to the water, sometimes almost touching it. With eager eye 

 he searched both pools and shallows, but his prey had escaped. 



Then back he went to his old perch. It was the best 

 place after all, for, like many another fisherman, he found 

 watching and waiting infinitely more profitable than a more 

 active quest. 



Shortly after, a boy in his wanderings chanced upon this 

 spot, seldom disturbed by human visitations. With his gun 

 he had come that way in search of some living target on which 

 to improve his marksmanship, and seeing the lone watcher, 

 aimed at him. A shot and a flash, and the kingfisher had 

 gone to his reward. No real sportsman would have been 

 guilty of shooting a bird useless to him or any one else, but 

 the inexperienced boy thought not of this. Anything he 

 could bring down was an object of pride. To satisfy this the 

 solitary fisherman lost his life, a bird home was made deso- 

 late, and a young family learned to know the pangs of 

 hunger. 



The kingfisher's mate never knew what fate had befallen 

 him — some misfortune, surely. One so devoted as he had 

 always proved himself could never have deserted her in the 

 time of greatest need. Their domestic life had been an ideal 

 one. She remembered with pride his imremitting watchful- 

 ness during those dark days in the burrow. The great heap 

 of bones on the floor of it testified to both his industry and 

 his unselfishness. Long days she watched hopefully for his 

 return, but, gradually, hope died out and she knew that 

 hereafter she must live her life without the comfort of com- 

 panionship. The tragedy which founded the family was 

 being repeated. The fate of her most remote ancestress was 

 hers. 



101 



