OLD WHITE 

 WING 



HE sun had crossed the line, 

 the snow was beginning to 

 melt, and now and then the 

 call of a robin was heard. It 

 was "sugar time'*; the buck- 

 ets were hung, and the large 

 pans on the arch were send- 

 ing volumes of sweet vapor 

 into the air until the little 

 slab house was almost hidden 

 in wreaths of white smoke. 



Early morning found the farmer folk astir with the 

 promise of a good "sap day." From the grove of 

 hemlocks back of the sugar bush came the familiar 

 "Caw, caw," of the crows. They, too, had a promise 

 of something good, for across the meadow from the 

 barns came the glad news that food in plenty was 

 awaiting them. Soon a dark speck could be seen in 



the sky in the direction of the hemlock grove, then 



268 



