"OIv^E FLEW EAST AND ONE FLEW 

 WEST" 



EAELY dusk of a cold March night was fall- 

 ing. The two red maples in the little 

 alder swale beyond the pasture stood penciled 

 on the gray sky. A robin had been singing ; but 

 now the deep winter hush had crept back over 

 the fields. 



Suddenly there was a hiss and winnow of 

 wings close above my head. I dodged. Past 

 me, lined for the swale, with an erratic, rotary 

 flight as if fired from a rifle, sped a bird. 



"He's back!" I exclaimed. "He escaped!" 

 And through my cold, rain-soaked world of wood 

 [215] 



