seemed no
end but the sky.

From the level of the boat, however, we saw only a little way into the
outer fringe. The water lay among the stalks, and mud hens with white
bills pushed their way busily into intricate narrow unguessed waterways.
Occasionally the hedge of the tules broke to a greater or lesser opening
into a lagoon. These were like shallow lakes, in which sometimes grew
clumps of grasses. They were covered with waterfowl. Never have I seen
so many ducks and geese of all kinds. They literally covered the surface
of the water, and fairly seemed to jostle each other as they swam busily
to and fro, intent on some business of their own. Their comfortable, low
conversational clucking and quacking was a pleasure to hear. When, out
of curiosity, we fired a revolver shot, they rose in the air with a roar
like that of a great waterfall, and their crossing lines of flight in
the sky was like the multitude of midges in the sun. I remember one
flock of snow-white geese that turned and wheeled, alternately throwing
their bodies in shadow or in the sunlight, so that they flashed
brilliantly.

As the sun declined, the wind fell. Fortunately the current in the river
was hardly perceptible. We slipped along on glassy waters. Thousands
upon thousands of blackbirds dipped across us uttering their calls.
Against a saffron sky were long lines of waterfowl, their necks
outstretched. A busy multitudinous noise of marsh birds rose and fell
all about us. The sun was a huge red ball touching the distant hills.

At last the wind failed us entirely, but the sailor got out a pair of
sweeps, and we took turns rowing. Within a half hour we caught the
silhouette of three trees against the sky, and shortly landed on a
little island of solid ground. Here we made camp for the night.

All next day, and the days after, being luckily favoured by steady fair
winds, we glided up the river. I could not but wonder at the certainty
with which our sailor picked the right passage from the numerous false
channels that offered themselves. The water was beautifully clear and
sweet; quite different from the muddy currents of to-day. Shortly the
solid ground had drawn nearer; so that often we passed long stretches of
earth standing above the tule-grown water. Along these strips grew
sycamore and cottonwood trees of great size, and hanging vines of the
wild grape. The trees were as yet bare of leaves, but everything else
was green and beautiful. We could