148 



ON THE BIRDS' HIGHWAY 



here and there across the moon-glade. 

 The notes of hundreds of migrating birds 

 were continually to be heard. A barred 

 owl hooted twice far off in the woods — 

 adding to his regulation hoo- 

 hoo — hoo, hoo, hoo, along 

 drawn out hoo-o-o-0-0 that I 

 thought at first was the whistle 

 of the engine on the Chateaugay 

 railroad far up the mountain's 

 side. A red squirrel dropped 

 bark on us from an overhang- 

 ing limb. The stillness of the 

 night seemed rather, as one 

 listened, a babel of noises. Al- 

 though, far off in the woods, at 

 times we thought we heard a deer break- 

 ing underbrush on his way to the spring, 

 none came in, so at twelve o'clock we 

 stumbled back to camp. Mice had 

 amused themselves by playing tag over 

 my host's face every time he had tried to 

 go to sleep, and had endeavored to carry 

 off everything on the table. If they be- 

 haved thus after I had gone to sleep little 

 I cared, for, rolled in my blanket on the 

 delicious balsam bed after my long vigil, 

 sleep was oh ! so welcome. 



