4 THE BROOK BOOK 



a larger stone were transformed in the naturalist's 

 hand into marvels of insect architecture. They 

 were houses inhabited by small insects, but it was 

 only by dint of vigorous urging that we induced 

 the inmates to show themselves. 



"Caddice- worms," said the Professor, picking 

 up still another stone. At least a dozen of the rude 

 little cases were firmly attached along its edges. 

 They were in a regular row, like small city houses 

 all of the same pattern. Each house was tenanted 

 by a single, slender creature, not more than half an 

 inch long, and fitting his house so snugly that 

 there could not possibly be any room for furniture. 

 Later in the summer I learned more of the caddice- 

 worm's story. 



We started up stream again, crossing and recross- 

 ing the brook many times, for the banks were now 

 so steep that climbing was impossible. Soon we 

 reached a point where the stream had crept under 

 the edge of the banks on both sides. It seemed 

 to deny our right to pass that way. The Professor 

 announced that it was time to wade, and looked 

 rather ruefully at my shoes while he changed his 

 own. I was glad that he had brought his rub- 

 ber boots, though they must have been heavy 

 to carry all that distance. But how was I to go 

 further without ruining my walking boots ? For- 

 tunately I had my wits about me — also an extra 

 pair of heavy stockings. So far the floor of the 

 stream had been composed of flat stones as smooth 

 as the sidewalks in the town. Why not? With- 

 out waiting to consider the matter too seriously, I 



