able to understand each other. Martin could not make out what they
said, but suspected that they were talking about him; and he feared
that their remarks were not always of a friendly nature.

At length he made the discovery that the water of the stream was
perpetually running away. If he dropped a leaf on the surface it
would hasten down stream, and toss about and fret impatiently
against anything that stood in its way, until, making its escape, it
would quickly hurry out of sight. Whither did this rippling, running
water go? He was anxious to find out. At length, losing all fear and
fired with the sight of many new and pretty things he found while
following it, he ran along the banks until, miles from home, he came
to a great lake he could hardly see across, it was so broad. It was
a wonderful place, full of birds; not small, fretful creatures
flitting in and out of the rushes, but great majestic birds that
took very little notice of him. Far out on the blue surface of the
water floated numbers of wild fowl, and chief among them for grace
and beauty was the swan, pure white with black head and neck and
crimson bill. There also were stately flamingoes, stalking along
knee-deep in the water, which was shallow; and nearer to the shore
were flocks of rose-coloured spoonbills and solitary big grey herons
standing motionless; also groups of white egrets, and a great
multitude of glossy ibises, with dark green and purple plumage and
long sickle-like beaks.

The sight of this water with its beds of rushes and tall flowering
reeds, and its great company of birds, filled Martin with delight;
and other joys were soon to follow. Throwing off his shoes, he
dashed with a shout into the water, frightening a number of ibises;
up they flew, each bird uttering a cry repeated many times, that