MINSTREL WEATHER ^ CHAPTER 

 X. WHEN THE OAKS WEAR 

 DAMSON <$ <$ <$ 



I HE wild ducks are streaming 

 south upon their journey of 

 uncounted days. Resting a 

 little after sunset upon the 

 cedar - bordered pond, they 

 are startled into flight again by some hound 

 hunting in the night, and with beating 

 wing and eerie cry go on. The later flying 

 geese rise clamorous from among the cat- 

 tails, and in silent haste the blue heron 

 and the pair of sad old cranes that had 

 roosted in a dead elm alongshore take the 

 chill, invisible trail. When day comes in 



[54] 



