XVI 
TREASURE-TROVE AT THE SHORE 
The Herring or Harbour Gull 
THE autumn had been clear and fine, and the hillside 
farmers of Fair Meadows township had their out-of-door 
work well in hand by Thanksgiving. The fall-sown rye 
was well up, and the fields that were to lie fallow and be 
sweetened by the frost were ploughed and in good shape. 
Ice-cutting, on the chain of large ponds that lay in the 
valley between the hills north of the river woods, was an 
important industry of the region, so that every one was 
anxious to have the ice form clear and firm before snowfall. 
As yet, however, there had been no signs of either, except 
the thin ice with which Black Frost always covers the roof, 
gutters, water-pails, and shallow pools when he prowls 
round in the early morning, as if merely to let the good 
folks know of his presence, and to prepare them for his 
gentler mediating brother, Snow. 
The day after Thanksgiving the wind began to blow, 
not in mere passing gusts, but steadily and systematically. 
Then, too, it came from a strange quarter for that season — 
the extreme southeast. This was the wind to drive 
the sea into the bay and force the water high on 
shore. Such winds, at this season, piled the elastic brown 
seaweed in long lines high above tide-water, and many a 
farmer, and. market-gardener, as he ate his supper, laid 
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