BIRD STORIES 



calling his watchword through the night? For it has 

 been heard; there being men who go to the hilltops and 

 listen. 



' As they hear, now and again, wanderers far above 

 them calling, ''Chink/' one to another, they know the 

 bobolinks are on their way to a land that lies south of 

 the Amazon, and that neither sleep nor darkness bars 

 their path, which is open before them to take when and 

 where they will. 



And yet Bob and his comrades did not hasten. The 

 year was long enough for pleasure by the way. He and 

 May had worked busily to bring up a family of five fine 

 sons and daughters early in the summer; and now that 

 their children were able to look out for themselves, there 

 was no reason why the birds should not have some idle, 

 care-free hours. 



Besides, it was time for the Feast of the Vagabonds, a 

 ceremony that must be performed during the first weeks 

 of the Migrant Flight; for it is a custom of the bobolinks, 

 come down to them through no one knows how many 

 centuries, to hold a farewell feast before leaving North 

 America. If you will glance at a map of the Bobolink 

 Route, you will see the names of the states they passed 

 through. Our travelers did not know these names; but 

 for all that, they found the Great Rice Trail and fol- 

 lowed it. They found rice wild in the swamps of Mary- 



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