THE GREAT HORNED OWL 



ORK had been going on all day in the 

 sugar bush; the sap had been gathered 

 and drawn to the boiling place, until 

 there remained to be visited only a few scattering 

 trees near the swamp. As it falls to the lot of the 

 boy on the farm to run errands and do odd jobs, so 

 the collecting of the sap from these few trees naturally 

 fell to him, and before he was out of hearing a voice 

 from the sugar camp called to him, "Don't be gone 

 long, for it will soon be chore time." 



The shadows were growing long as the old horse 

 moved the sled slowly along the snowy road winding 

 in and out among the tall maples, and gloom was 

 settling in the thick hemlocks at the base of Hall's 

 Hill. The boy was softly whistling to himself and 

 thinking as only boys can think, when a rabbit with 

 easy graceful bounds crossed the road but a few paces 

 ahead of him, stopping by the side of a birch bush 

 to nibble the tender buds. Just then a sound came 



up from the swamp which startled the boy, not 



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