of tfyt 



the birds. It was coming toward me over the wide 

 reach of the swamp. 



Its coming seemed perfectly natural, as the sight 

 of the swamp seemed entirely familiar, though I had 

 never looked upon it from this point before. Silent, 

 inscrutable, and alien it lay, untouched by human 

 hands except for this narrow braid of railroad bind- 

 ing its outer edges. Over it hung a quiet and reserve 

 as real as twilight. Like a mask it was worn, and was 

 slipped on, I know, at my approach. I could feel the 

 silent spirit of the place drawing back away from 

 me, though not to leave me quite alone. I should 

 have at least a guide to lead me through the shadow 

 land, for out of the lower living green towered a 

 line of limbless stubs, their bleached bones gleaming 

 white, or showing dark and gaunt against the hori- 

 zon and marking for me a path far out across the 

 swamp. Besides, here came the buzzard winding 

 slowly down the clouds. Soon its spiral changed to 

 a long pendulum swing, till just above the skeleton 

 trees it wheeled, and bracing itself with its flapping 

 wings, dropped heavily upon one of their headless 

 trunks. 



It had come leisurely, yet with a defmiteness that 

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