ON THE UPPER ST. JOHN’S. 127 
we will pick his bones.” They perched 
near by, and, not to lose time, employed the 
interval in drying their wings, for the night 
had been showery. Once in a while one of 
them shifted his perch with an ominous 
rustle. They were waiting for me, and 
were becoming impatient. “He is long 
about it,’ one said to another; and I did 
not wonder. The place seemed one from 
which none who entered it could ever go 
out; and there was no going farther in 
without plunging into that horrible mire. 
I stood still, and looked and listened. Some 
strange noise, “ bird or devil,” came from 
the depths of the wood. <A flock of grackles 
settled in a tall cypress, and for a time 
made the place loud. How still it was after 
they were gone! I could hardly withdraw 
my gaze from the green water full of slimy 
black roots and branches, any one of which 
might suddenly lift its head and open its 
deadly white mouth! Once a fish-hawk fell 
to screaming farther down the lake. I had 
seen him the day before, standing on the 
rim of his huge nest in the top of a tree, 
and uttering the same cries. All about 
me gigantic cypresses, every one swollen 
