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 wiU 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 



289 



