64 Wilderness Ways. 



like a fury and struck again. Another jerk, and again 

 he missed. Then he was at the thicket where I stood ; 

 his fierce yellow eyes glared straight into mine for a 

 startled instant, and he brushed me with his wings as 

 he sailed away into the shadow of the spruces. 



Small doubt now that I had seen my assailant of 

 the night before; for an owl has regular hunting 

 grounds, and uses the same watch towers night after 

 night. He had seen my head in the thicket, and 

 struck at the first movement. Perceiving his mis- 

 take, he kept straight on over my head ; so of course 

 there was nothing in sight when I turned. As an 

 owl's flight is perfectly noiseless (the wing feathers 

 are wonderfully soft, and all the laminae are drawn 

 out into hair points, so that the wings never whirr nor 

 rustle like other birds') I had heard nothing, though 

 he passed close enough to strike, and I was listening 

 intently. And so another mystery of the woods was 

 made plain by a little watching. 



Years afterwards, the knowledge gained stood me iri 

 good stead in clearing up another mystery. It was 

 in a lumber camp — always a superstitious place — in 

 the heart of a Canada forest. I had followed a wander- 

 ing herd of caribou too far one day, and late in the 

 afternoon found myself alone at a river, some twenty 

 miles from my camp, on the edge of the barren grounds. 



