THE BIG BLOW. 
S° far as he could see when he woke up, 
things did not look promising. He 
would scarcely have backed himself to see the 
next dawn, in fact. Although in reality the 
president of the elder rooks, he might have 
been the last-born nestling for all the chance 
he could perceive for himself. 
The sky was like the lid of a lead box; the 
ground resembled nickel-steel; and the cold 
was enough to freeze the very grease that he 
used for preening his feathers with. There 
was no wind—it only breathed; and it had 
been like this for days and days. 
The rook flock showed as black blobs 
huddled on the trees about him. Below, in 
the understuff of the wood, thousands of star- 
lings and redwings and thrushes were <:. aking 
to go out into the fields, food-hunting, so 
called, for another perishing day. Those who 
thought they had strength were getting ready 
for a long journey westward and by south, on 
the very off-chance of getting beyond the frost- 
king’s grip. 
The old president of the elders, who knew 
that if you don’t keep a move on in such 
