202 Trails to Woods and Waters 



gather, with soft loving clucks and cheets. 

 The vigilant mother shields them from the 

 hawk, the owl, the fox, the weasel and the 

 snare. 



" Perhaps it is the hunter that finally 

 breaks up this happy family, or perhaps it is 

 the autumn madness that always attacks the 

 young birds in November. Finally they all 

 go their several ways and each fights the bat- 

 tle of existence for himself. 



" Here we are, Harry, at your gate. 

 Good-night." 



