XII 



THE SILENT DANCER 



ONE day late last spring, as I was walking across the 

 campus toward my class room, I was startled by 

 hearing a long-forgotten sound. It came like an echo of 

 former days and brought with it a flood of fond mem- 

 ories of childhood. I stood still in my tracks and began 

 scanning the Southern horizon as I had done hundreds of 

 times in my childhood for my long forgotten friends. 

 Presently the cries came again and I succeeded in making 

 out a dim line of birds circling in the southern horizon. 

 Higher and higher they mounted for perhaps ten or fifteen 

 minutes and then started on north straight toward me. 

 Nothing that I had seen for a long time was so great 

 a surprize, or gave me so much pleasure, except the eight 

 of the two trumpeter swans mentioned elsewhere in this 

 book. Fortunately I succeeded in calling several persons 

 to witness the sight. 



By the time the birds were directly overhead they had 

 fallen low enough that one could see their long legs stick- 

 ing out behind and their equally long necks and bills 

 sticking out in front. When they were almost directly 

 overhead the leader gave a signal and they all broke rank 

 and again started circling in order again to gain height 

 before making another dash northward. They circled 



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