A SONG OF THE SEA 



259 



in the pack and carried only a single 

 shot rifle in our hand. The gun was use- 

 less, but we had taken it along because 

 of visions of bears and panthers. Dolph 

 was carrying the weapon when we came 

 to a backwoods farmhouse. The farmer 

 was raking hay just beyond a line fence 

 in the field. Dolph ambled over to the 

 fence, and, carelessly placing the gun 

 through it, yelled to the man if he 

 wanted any photographs taken. The fel- 

 low jerked around, saw the gun point- 

 ing his way, and a stranger ahold of it. 

 He dropped his rake and with his fin- 

 gers outstretched seemed ready to throw 

 his hands into the air. He thought he 



was being held up. Dolph saw his con- 

 fusion and repeated the question, say- 

 ing "pictures" instead of "photograph." 

 A decided look of relief appeared on the 

 man's face as he replied, "No," he 

 guessed not, and picked up his rake. It 

 was so funny that the next mile of walk 

 was easy. 



When we got home we had twenty 

 plates to develop and about eight prints 

 to make. Together with what we fin- 

 ished and sold at the camps we cleared 

 above expenses $20. We had a little 

 over a week of actual work. Consider- 

 ing what we saw and learned, it was 

 worth while. 



A SONG OF THE SEA 



By MARY WILHELMINA HASTINGS 



O salt is the brine on cheek and lip, 



And cold the drenching spray ; 

 The call of the winds comes glad and free 

 With the answering roar of the baited sea, 

 Lashed to a foam-flecked gray. 



O cold is the brine on cheek and lip! 



Then ho ! for a swelling sail 

 And the master joy that mariners feel 

 When the rushing prow and cleaving keel 



Dare the defiant gale ! 



