slender legs, and little feet.

There were only

three toes on each foot, but she could run very fast, nevertheless; faster than the big white crabs when they chased each other. Her voice was soft and clear, so that she spoke in a mellow whistle as though there was a sort of bird flute in her throat. She was of that species which men have named the Wilson's plover.

Now, little Bib-neck (although he did not grow the bib on his neck for days to come) and his sisters grew tired of staying in the hole in the sand, as they had grown weary of remaining inside the eggshells. Soon they were out running about and learning many wonderful things. Their mother fed them and taught them the secrets of the seashore and the ways of plover life. They were not allowed to go near the water, but they often watched their parents run down behind a wave as it left the beach, quickly pick up what good things could be found to eat, and then come speeding back as the next breaker would rush in.

In a short time they would be grown and could do that too, the little ones told themselves.

At times the

family would cross to the other side of the sand banks and feed along the quiet water's edge of the sound.

One day a sudden cry of warning from his mother caused Bib-neck to squat silent and immovable as the worn and broken seashells about him. An instant later a fierce hawk stopped suddenly in mid-air almost directly overhead.

Now hawks are not common along these beaches, and the wonder is that Bib-neck knew enough to lie quiet. The hawk had seen him near that spot only a second before, and it checked its flight with a mighty whir and flap of its wings which it hoped would cause the little plover to start, or move his head just a little, and thus disclose himself. But Bib-neck did not stir, although the shadow of the bird had fallen over him and the wicked, yellow eyes seemed to look straight into his as they searched the sands. The hawk wheeled and hovered, and then flew off only to return in half a minute with another great rush. It disliked to give up the search, for it was hungry and was hunting in good earnest for its dinner.

But it did not have much longer to wait, for it soon surprised a red-shouldered blackbird among the reeds of a small marsh back of the dunes. Away went the blackbird with a startled cackle, the hawk in hot pursuit.

Bib-neck saw it all from his lookout tower on the top of a dune. He beheld his marsh neighbor when first he flew, and saw him at intervals during the game of dodging which followed. He often saw the red epaulets of the blackbird twinkle in the sunlight, and at times the flash of light on the upturned flanges of the hawk's wings as it dived and twisted in the race. It was all so new and fearful and exciting to him that he fairly danced with nervousness. The game was a short one, for the small bird was no match for his foe.

As the blackbird was in the act of darting into a clump of sea oats, a long, yellow foot with claws sharp as needles closed down upon him, and one shrill cry told that the end had come. There on some driftwood the hawk stood, and holding its prey with its feet, reached down with its long, curved beak, and the midday meal began.

THE CHILDHOOD OF BIB-NECK

PART II

THE young plovers grew very rapidly both in stature and in wisdom, so that before the autumn came they were as large, if not as wise, as their parents. During the latter part of the summer many other birds, some larger and some smaller than the plovers, began to appear on the beaches.

At night numbers of feathered forms appeared to be flying southward overhead, and strange voices called to each other out of the sky.

All these sights seemed very new and wonderful to Bib-neck, and yet the forefathers of these birds had been acting in the same way for thousands of years. It seemed that no bird wanted to be alone, and all kept in flocks as far as possible. Bib-neck began to catch some of the same spirit, and once or twice when a flock of semi-palmated plovers flew by, he joined them, and fed with them for half a day. But for the most part he stayed by himself or in company with his parents and sisters.

There were also thereabouts some tall, yellow

legged birds which had loud, clear voices, and when they called all could hear, from the edge of the breakers up to the dunes and beyond. The yellow-legs were the sentinels, and were always the first to see the approach of an enemy. When the clear whistling danger call of the yellow-legs came down on the wind, the beach birds gathered themselves for a sudden dash; for in flight, rather than in crouching, their chief safety now lay. Men with guns were the foes most to be feared at this

season.

There came a day which they all had cause to remember. One morning the shrill warning flute of the yellow-legs suddenly rang out and sounded again and again. These birds had arisen from the sand and were flying swiftly down the beach, calling to everybody that danger was abroad. The distant discharge of a gun was followed in a few seconds by flocks of birds hurrying down the shore. Running to the top of his favorite dune, Bib-neck saw four or five men with guns, coming at a distance. They wore leggins, and each carried a hunting bag, for they were sportsmen from the