Another story circulated freely to the effect that creatures like huge bears had been seen rushing over the flats and through the churchyard at a terrific speed, yet in perfect silence. Many of the fisher lads and lasses could swear to having seen them when coming from their boats through the marshes.

CHAPTER XI.

A LONGSHORE RAMBLE.

FORTUNATELY for Denzil's development as a naturalist, if not for the family exchequer, the branch of trade at which he and his father worked gave them little or no employment at certain seasons of the year; so he was able to give more time to the pursuit of knowledge of the ways and haunts of the wild-fowl than his elders approved. At an early age Den kept a note and sketch book, which he found valuable in after-life.

One day, in his wanderings, he found himself on a long strip of sandy beach quite different from that part of the shore which he more commonly frequented. It was on a fine day in June, and very hot; a blue dancing mist hung over the water and the shingly sand-blown beach. This spot was higher than the parts Den had already traversed; coarse sand, large stones, and pebbles, mixed with

broken shells-all above high-water mark-composed the flooring. Scattered here and there were stunted blackthorn bushes, which struggled for existence, blown all in one direction by the fierce winds that swept up from the sea. Low, tough, trailing brambles crept over the shingle and larger stones; and where there was the least chance of nourishment, long wiry grass shot up all round about.

It was a dead calm on the water, not a sail was in sight, for little trade was doing. Out on the water, about a hundred yards or so from the shore, a couple of herring gulls were fishing in their own fashion. They were not very common on that shore, and when disturbed were very shy. Seeing something moving, they flapped right out to sea. Nothing was to be seen except the guard-ship a mile or more away: he had to pass close to her as he jogged on, for she was moored on the flats, and surrounded by the water at high tide. "A rest will not hurt me," Den thought, and he sidled round the stunted blackthorns, the highest of them not over four feet, in quest of a little shade.

Sitting there very quietly, thinking of nothing in particular, looking on the hot bright sand, he saw a flash of light run up a stone and rest on the top. It was a lizard on a fly-catching trip. Flies and many small beetles are very numerous about spots

like these. He was not more than a yard from Den, and he could note the peculiar rise and fall of his throat, and the play of his little tongue. This species is larger than the heath lizard, and his colouring is very different, being a shining yellowgreen with darker markings, not so bright nor so large as the green Jersey lizard. He found many like him afterwards, but only one on that part of the shore.

A piping whistle sounds just overhead; looking up, he saw a pair of ring-dotterels, or sand-larks, as the coast dwellers call them, fly over and drop somewhere behind him. They have come from the salt flats close at hand. Another pair comes over, and then, when they have pitched, a feeble pipe or peep is heard. This was one of the

breeding - stations of the common but beautiful little plover, or ring-dotterel, and Den intended to have a look at them. As he rose, master lizard made a bolt; a few more steps on the shingle disturb several more like himself, which scuttled off quickly under the stones and creeping brambles.

As Den advances the piping is heard more distinctly, quite close to him it seems. A pair shoot up from one side, and then settle within a few yards and pipe most plaintively. He has a full view of them as they stand on the bare sand and shingle, looking hard at him as they pipe; every

motion is as plain, and the plumage is as distinct, as though they stood there specially for his observation. The little breasts rise and fall in their great excitement as they pipe, their wings shift in short uneasy movements, and their little feet pat the shingle. It will not do to move: innocent and beautiful as the birds are, nature has given them the actor's art to perfection; one step forward on the lad's side and the pair would appear to be feathered cripples, one so badly wounded in the wing that recovery would seem impossible, whilst the other would be sadly afflicted in the legs and feet.

Denzil had no wish to alarm the pretty creatures, nor to look for their young ones that were huddled up in some hollow by the side of one or other of the larger stones which were scattered about here and there.

In all his longshore shootings-and he was early intrusted with a gun-he never shot a dotterel; the coast men do not care ever to hurt them: the birds have robins' law.

Leaving the part where the dotterels breed, Den takes a track leading to the salt flats. Here the sea-kale or wild cabbage grows in abundance; the . place is covered with it for long distances, a break here and there being caused by the grey sea-blite. Then comes rough shingle and wiry grass.