294 TEXAS AND ARIZONA 



The flock disappeared, the tumult lessened and 

 ceased, and I passed on. But fifteen minutes 

 afterward, as I was retracing my steps over the 

 hill, suddenly I heard the same resounding chorus 

 again. A second flock of cranes was passing. 

 This, too, was in a V-shaped line, though for 

 some reason it fell into disorder almost immedi- 

 ately. Now I essayed a count, and had just con- 

 cluded that there were some eighty of the birds, 

 when a commotion behind me caused me to turn 

 my head. To my amazement, a third and much 

 larger flock was following close behind the 

 second. There was no numbering it with exact- 

 ness, but I ran my glass down the long, wavering 

 line, as best I could, and counted one hundred 

 and fifteen. 



An hour before I had never seen a sandhill 

 crane in its native wildness (a creature nearly 

 or quite as tall as myself), and behold, here was 

 the sky full of them. And what a judgment-day 

 trumpeting they made ! Angels and archangels, 

 cherubim and seraphim ! Perhaps I did not enjoy 

 it, there, with the white gravestones standing 

 all about me. After all, there is something in 

 mere volume of sound. If it does not feed the 

 soul, at least it stirs the blood. And that is a 

 good thing, also. I wonder if Michelangelo did 

 not at some time or other see and hear the like. 



