de chest,’ she told him over and over again, 
until Pete was almost ready to believe she spoke 
truthfully. Presently he looked out of the 
window and saw old Bill Buzzard sitting on a 
fence post. At this his face clouded and he 
reached for his rabbit foot. 
As a matter of fact, this buzzard was a very 
harmless, if an ugly old bird, and had been so all 
the days of his life. He sailed for miles all 
about the country searching for food, but his 
favorite territory for hunting was the Cow 
Heaven plantation, and, as we have seen, he 
often roosted with other buzzards in the big 
swamp. Although he seemed to prefer company 
at night, he was by day a solitary bird, and only 
when a dead hog or cow or other deceased animal 
of large size brought many buzzards together, 
was he seen in their company. Usually he was 
satisfied with such small pickings as he could 
find around the scattered houses of the country. 
A chicken head, a dead snake or rat, some fish 
scraps or even slops thrown into the hog pens 
were all good food from his point of view, and 
with these humble morsels he was content. 
108 
