98 AT THE NORTH OF BEARCAMP WATER. 
was, they were awake and stirring. Reaching 
the bank of the lake a minute or two after four, 
I startled a spotted sandpiper from the beach, 
and heard his peeping whistle as he flew from 
me across the black water, beyond which only 
dusky masses of gloom marked the pine woods 
on the farther shore. The surface of the water 
was disturbed by thousands of insects cutting 
queer figures upon it. Where they moved, 
white ripples followed. As I walked along the 
moist sand of the beach, pickerel shot out from 
the shore, bats squeaked, and frogs jumped into 
deeper water with nervous croaks of fear. 
Then a whippoorwill sang, and as his weird 
notes echoed from the woods, Venus sailed clear 
from the mist bank and reflected her dazzling 
beauty in the lake. As I drew near the mouth 
of the brook, a solitary tattler ran along the 
sand in front of me, whistling softly. When I 
turned into the bushes, he stopped and resumed 
his search for breakfast. 
The dead tree rose above me, jet black 
against the dark sky. Stepping softly through 
the bushes, I disturbed the wary catbirds, and 
their fretful cries awoke the meadow. At 
twenty minutes past four, three whippoorwills 
were singing, and two catbirds, with several 
hermit thrushes, were complaining. A few mo¬ 
ments later, the call of a veery was heard, a 
