Over the broad lake swept purple martins and white-breasted swallows, and nearer the shore fed peacefully a few pied-billed grebes, or dabchicks, birds that I had seen only two or three times before, and at which I looked more than once before I made out what they were.

The little martins, always trustful, never hesitated from the first to fly into the cave and drink from the dripping water.

The little martins, always trustful, never hesitated from the first to fly into the cave and drink from the dripping water.