3S^ The Cranes 



the report one bird leaped into the air and made 

 off on great waving fans of snow and ebony. 



But the other? Ah! the poor other — he lay 

 like the last snows of winter — a mere drift of 

 white against the bronzy grass. 



With a yell of delight the driver whirled his 

 ponies and rattled over to the crane, which he 

 presently brought back in triumph. I still lay in 

 the grass, thinking things. And this was the cele- 

 brated crane which no man could stalk — the wary 

 white sentinel of the grassy sea — the unapproach- 

 able, spotless warden of the honor of the North ? 

 And I, a tenderfoot, had slain it first throw out 

 of the box ! It was absolutely bewildering. 



" Get up out of that ! What's the matter — did 

 she kick? " shouted my driver; but I merely rolled 

 over and looked earnestly and sorrowfully at the 

 beautiful bird. 



" You're a wonder ! But, say, why didn't you 

 hold on the other — he was broadside to you ? " 

 he continued. 



To me the glory of the sunshine had paled to 

 a funereal gray, but I had to answer, and the 

 answer was — " Dammit, I did/'' 



His yell of laughter almost sent the ponies up 

 in the air, but there was a second barrel coming. 

 He took one glance at the rifle, then leaped out 

 and lay down to safely enjoy himself. Reader, 

 I'm ashamed to speak about that rear sight ! I 



