Hit tbe Moobs wftb tbe 3Bow 



the water scarcely hoof-deep and stopped 

 to drink, none the worse for flogging or 

 fright, I was sneaking in a curve to take 

 cover behind a clump of low bushes. Then 

 I felt Mr. Shamly look at me and heard 

 him say : 



"Wall, dern sich a feller! They 's no 

 feesh in this yer crick." 



I crept until I could peep around a 

 fringe of the bushes. Yonder stood the 

 bird, a fine, sheeny fellow, well poised on 

 his sturdy legs, showing glints of reddish 

 yellow, brown, black, gray, white, and ash. 

 It was a Canute sandpiper, doubtless a 

 straggler blown there by some wind of 

 accident — a most interesting bird, with 

 an incomplete biography to which I hope 

 in the long run to contribute some facts. 

 Just now I wish to brag of a good shot. 



Eighteen yards is a very short range, 

 even for a bow, and at that distance the 

 knot — the common name of our Canute 

 sandpiper — looked strikingly large; in real- 

 ity its measurements were: length about 

 eleven inches, extent twenty-one inches. 

 It stood on a bit of wet sand beside a rock 



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