BY INLAND WATERS 101 



frozen solid from bank to bank and the ice was 

 covered with snow, making a white, winding drive- 

 way between the steep banks and the overhanging 

 willows. Cresting a sharp rise, which shut the river 

 from view, we climbed a fence and moved softly 

 across a little field. A moment later we were look- 

 ing down upon the river from an elevation of forty 

 or fifty feet, at a point where it has bitten its way 

 through a hill, forming a narrow gorge, and flows so 

 rapidly that even this Arctic weather could not 

 entirely freeze it. There was, perhaps, three hun- 

 dred feet of open water in midstream, a slash of 

 black velvet in the white — of black velvet fringed 

 with a little green watered silk as the sun flashed on 

 the exposed edges of the ice. 



His finger on his lips, my companion pointed 

 down to the scar of open water, and, following his 

 gesture, I saw first two, then three, then five Ameri- 

 can mergansers, quietly and busily engaged in the 

 pursuit of a livelihood in this chill element. 



We watched them, fascinated, for a considerable 

 time. Their methods of fishing seemed to be varied, 

 but that most employed was to work up to the head 

 of the open water, either by swimming close to the 

 edge of the ice and taking advantage of all the back- 

 waters or else by climbing out and waddling up on 

 the ice itself, and then swimming down with the cur- 

 rent, head bent close to the water, eyes alert. The 

 ducks would make the three-hundred-foot trip time 

 and time again without results, till you might have 

 supposed they were merely playing a game, coasting 

 down the swift current, as it were. But now and 

 then one would suddenly tip forward and under, 



