rently, of the round autumnal moon. There was 

 frost in the air and a thousand fragrant odors 

 from the ripened swamp ; but not a cry nor call 

 in the stillness, until, suddenly, breaking through 

 the hush with a jarring, eery echo, sounded the 

 hoot of a great horned owl. 



One of the roustabouts dropped to the deck, 

 holding up his hand. We listened. Again the 

 weird, startling Whoo, hoo-hoo-hoo-whoo-you-ah- 

 ah! 



"Dat de king owl," whispered the darky. 

 "He 's. out for turkey. 01' gobbler done gone 

 hid. Listen ! de king owl gwine make him 

 talk." 



We listened, waiting ; but there came no an- 

 swering talk, no gobble of challenge out of the 

 swamp. I sat up until the moon rode high 

 overhead, hoping "de king owl" would drive 

 one of the wild swamp turkeys from its tree-top 

 roost and send him fluttering and talking over 

 the open river. I was to have a sight of one the 

 next day,— a dead one,— but I am still waiting 

 to see and hear the great bronze bird alive in 

 its native haunts. 



They were all about me here on the Savannah 

 [264] 



