IN THE RAVEN S HAUNT 



VIII 

 An Outlaw of the Air 



THE grey dawn of morning was giving place 

 to the fuller light of sunrise when I first looked 

 upon the raven's haunt. Over the wild and rugged 

 hills, clouds tinged with roseate hue were travelling 

 fast. As the cold greyness disappeared, the clouds 

 turned into deeper crimson and glimpses of green 

 sky could be seen between the wind-torn rolls of 

 vapour, and then like a golden flood the sunbeams 

 burst out between two giant hills, while a missel- 

 thrush heralded the light with his cheerful song. 



