IN THE WHITE WOODS 



does in deep meditation. If he had hands 

 they would have been clasped behind his 

 back when in this attitude, as his wings 

 were. Again he lifted his head, high, 

 fluffed out those glossy black neck feath- 

 ers and strutted. Here surely was a fine 

 phrase that would reach the waiting heart 

 of that mottled brown hen that was now 

 quietly keeping by herself in some se- 

 cluded corner of the wood. The thought 

 threw out his chest, and those tail feathers 

 that had folded slimly as he walked in 

 pensive meditation spread and cocked 

 fan-shaped. I half expected him to open 

 his strong, pointed bill and gobble as a 

 turkey does under similar circumstances. 

 The demure placing of star after star in 

 that necklace trail was broken by a little 

 fantastic pas seul, from which he dropped 

 .suddenly on both feet, vaulted into the 

 air, and whirred away down arcades of 

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