132 " THE CRY IS, STILL THEY COME." 



others and these the leaders of the troop were armed 

 with single and double-barrelled guns, loaded almost to 

 the muzzle with powder and shot. 



At sunset each .man took up his position in silence, 

 though not a bird was yet visible on the horizon. Sud- 

 denly, I heard these words repeated by every hunter : 



" Here they come ! " 



In fact, the horizon grew dark ; and the noise made 

 by the pigeons resembled that of the terrible mistral of 

 Provence as it plunges into the gorges of the Apennines. 



When the column of pigeons swept above my head, I 

 experienced a* shudder, the effect partly of astonishment 

 and partly of cold ; for the displacement of air occasioned 

 an unusual atmospheric current. Meantime, the poles 

 were waving to and fro, bringing down thousands of 

 pigeons. The fires had all been kindled as if by 

 magic. I was witness of an admirable spectacle. The 

 pigeons arrived by millions, rushing headlong one upon 

 another, pressing close together like the bees in a swarin 

 which has escaped from its hive in the month of May. 

 The lofty tops of the overloaded roosting-place cracked, 

 and, falling to the ground, carried down with them the 

 pigeons which had perched upon the branches. So great 

 was the noise, that you could not hear your neighbour 

 speak, though he exerted himself with all his strength. 

 It was with difficulty you could distinguish an occasional 

 shot, though you saw the hunters constantly reloading 

 their weapons. We all kept to the edge of the wood, 

 out of the reach of the falling branches ; and thus the 

 massacre continued throughout the night, though after 

 eleven o'clock the passage of the pigeons had wholly 

 ceased. 



