CHAP. VII. | The Little Stint. 139 
during the pursuit of the bird, and though he had not 
tasted food during the whole of his absence, lying during 
part of the night among the shingle on the sea-shore, yet 
he never once thought of leaving the chase until final suc- 
cess crowned his efforts. We must allow him to tell the 
story in his own words: 
“T once had a desperate hunt after a little stint (Tringa 
minuta). Returning home one evening along the links,* 
I heard a strange cry coming, as it seemed, from the shore. 
I listened for some time, as I knew it was the season (Sep- 
tember) for many of our migratory species to visit us. 
Never having heard the try before, I was speedily on the 
beach. But it was growing dark, and I had not cat’s eyes. 
The sound, too, ceased so soon as I had gained the beach. 
After groping about for some time, I thought I espied a 
rather large flock of birds at some distance along the shore. 
I approached cautiously, and found that I was correct; 
the flock consisting chiefly of ringed plovers, dunlins, and 
sanderlings. From the latter circumstance, and from the 
fact that the cry wa8 that of a sandpiper, I was pretty sure 
that a stranger was among them. Although I could see 
well enough that the birds were on the wet sand between 
me and the water, I could not make them out distinctly. 
Once or twice I thought I could distinguish one consid- 
erably smaller than the others, but I soon felt that I had 
been mistaken. I was now in a state of great excitement. 
Every limb shook like an aspen-leaf, or a cock’s tail on a 
windy day. What wasI todo? True, I might have fired 
at them, but the odds were greatly against my being suc- 
cessful. 
“Tt was now fairly dark, and the birds had retired to rest 
on a ridge of rocks witich intervenes between the sands 
and the links. Instead of returning home, as any one else 
* Links, sandy, flat ground, sometimes covered with grass, lying 
along the sea-shore. 
