188 FROM ACROSS THE SEAS. 
and the pigeons, by then a hundred miles from 
land, went from sight. 
The long dawn wind stirred the leaves, so 
that they whispered among themselves. The 
light grew, strangely uncanny, and the gnarled 
and scarred trunks of the trees on the edge of 
the wood stood out clearly. The mists drew 
off with the wind, and a red sun peeped over 
the top of beyond, to discover a belated fox 
trotting to his lair. The birds began to call 
the roll. 
On one tree, pressed close against the trunk, 
on a big bough, sat a wood-pigeon. You 
would not have seen him. In fact, the home- 
ward-bound poacher who passed directly 
beneath did not see him, because his head 
was drawn close in to his breast, thus covering 
the white half-collar which alone would have 
revealed him. As it was, he merged into his 
surroundings beautifully. 
He was not asleep, this pigeon of ours, or, 
at least, his head was not tucked under his 
wing; but he did not move. He was, in fact, 
the same pigeon we last left, days ago, flying 
over the North Sea; and after arrival, he had 
flown right down to the south of England. 
Nor did he move for a long time. He just 
sat there in a sun-patch, whilst the silence of 
