The Wild Geese of Wyndygoul 
that flock on the water. All the law of ceremony 
was complied with, and all went well but the 
climax. 
When the Mad Moon came the mania was at 
its height; not once but twenty times a day I saw 
them line up and rise, but ever come back to the 
mother’s call, the bond of love and duty stronger 
than the annual custom of the race. It was a con- 
flict of their laws indeed, but the strongest was, 
obey, made absolute by love. 
After a while the impulse died and the flock 
settled down to winter on the pond. Many a long, 
far flight they took, but allegiance to the older folk 
was strong and brought them back. So the winter 
passed. 
Again, when the springtime came, the Blacknecks 
flying north stirred up the young, but in a less de- 
gree. 
That summer came another brood of young. 
The older ones were warned away whenever near. 
Snapper, Coon, and ranging cur were driven off, 
and September saw the young ones on the lake with 
their brothers of the older brood. 
Then came October, with the southward rushing 
of the feathered kinds. Again and again that line 
upon the lake and the bugle sound to “‘fly,” and the 
same old scene, though now there were a dozen 
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