THE BEECH WOODS 



did not rest there, but journeyed on 

 through the fields and meadows, under 

 bridges and old rail fences down to the 

 Chippewa. 



Close on the heels of the great thaw 

 the March wind came and swept the 

 woods with vociferous thunderings. It 

 sang and shouted and tossed the giant 

 tops at will, threshing the supple limbs 

 about in its boisterous play. It flew 

 down the avenues in majestic strides, 

 hurtling last year's leaves from place 

 to place. Like a thousand charging 

 steeds they raced through the woods, 

 past the gray boles of the beeches, to 

 rest for a moment in some hollow until 

 the caprice of another eddying gust 

 sent them charging back again. All 

 day the wind roared through the woods 

 until the dead limbs were shaken from 

 the trees and the leaves of last autumn, 

 swept from the exposed hillsides, piled 

 in drifts behind the logs and the hol- 

 lows levelled full. 



At night the wind died down. The 



roar of battle ceased for a time. The 



raccoon descended from his winter home 



by the creek and hunted the pools for 



16 



