IN THE WEALD 
that they have reached it in time. There is a ' chip, 
chip, chip ! ' and a ' chissick, chissick, chissick ! ' from 
the whole community, then they are silent. Geese 
and ducks come from the pond, and squat down 
underneath the waggons and carts below the shed 
their heads turned on to their backs, their bills 
buried in the feathers. The poultry come filing 
in silently not a sound do they make the hens 
first and the roosters bringing up the rear, combs 
lowered, hackles pressed close to the neck, and the 
tail-feathers the sickle-feathers usually held up so 
jauntily trailing their tips, in some instances touch- 
ing the ground. One solitary guinea-fowl, that had 
roamed away from its companions, comes rushing 
across the yard screaming out its cry of ' Come back, 
come back, come back ! ' The dog is curled up in 
his kennel, and the cows are standing close together 
under the cow-shed. Now all is silent, saving the 
' pit, pit, pat ' of large heat-drops of rain. As we 
look out, a flash of forked lightning shoots right 
across the hollow of the closed dome. The thunder 
follows instantly, with a crash that makes things 
rattle. This continues for some time, then the rain 
falls in a gentle^shower, the greatest boon for the 
wheat. A breeze springs up, and the cloud-masses 
break and drift. They are sailing away from us, and 
