XXI 



SKATING IN JULY 



No one but a water-bug ever thought of skat- 

 ing in July, though history tells of the sad fate of 

 the three girls who "slidin' went upon a morn in 

 May." 



On the surface of the quiet bays, just far enough 

 from the rapids to avoid being splashed, dwell the 

 water-striders. Their name suits them well. With 

 three pairs of such legs as theirs we need ask no 

 odds of the man with seven league boots. Water- 

 striders wear no boots. Their step is light as any 

 fairy's, for the floor on which they tread is too 

 unstable for any heavier weight. They skip nimbly 

 about on the surface film of the water with never 

 a fear of wet feet or a ducking. 



When I approached them quietly, they seemed 

 at rest, their slender bodies suspended just above 

 the water, their knees bent slightly upward and the 

 tips of their toes resting on the surface. I made 

 a sudden dive with my net and the pool was va- 

 cated as if by magic. Not one was captured. I 

 had, at least, succeeded in getting them out of a 

 shadowy corner. Soon a little company of them 

 collected, this time in a spot of sunlight. Under 

 them the bottom of the stream was as smooth as a 

 floor. As I watched, a strider would now and then 

 leap lightly into the air, as if at play. I learned 



H ("3) 



