132 ON THE BIRDS' HIGHWAY 



find them an uncomfortable lot. This 

 good Indian fisherman that we overtook 

 gave us a lift in his wagon nearly to the 

 great lighthouse, and, praising him on the 

 brave work done by his people when the 

 " Columbus " was wrecked, we were fast 

 friends. The stern-piece bearing the name 

 of that ill-fated steamer, lost below those 

 colored clifl^s on Devil's Bridge, he pointed 

 out nailed above the door of an old shin- 

 gled barn. His brother pulled an oar in 

 one of the rescuing boats, he told us. 



As we drove along, 

 stopping now and then, 

 while the Indian threw 

 out a great weak ' fish by 

 the road and hallooed to 

 the occupants of a distant 

 house to come and get it, 

 a marsh hawk appeared 

 and disappeared behind 

 the rolling hills. Crackles 

 were in the mown fields and three sum- 

 mer yellow-legs whistled in the distance. 



Rain had set in in earnest when we 

 reached the life-saving station, and as all 

 the weather prophets foretold wet weather 

 we cut short our tramp, left the north 



