CHAPTER XIII 



HONK, HONK, HONK ! 



ONK, honk, honk ! Out of the silence of 

 the November night, down through the 

 depths of the darkened sky, rang the 

 thrilling call of the passing geese. 



Honk, honk, honk ! I was out of bed in 

 an instant; but before I had 

 touched the floor, there was a 

 patter of feet in the boys' room, 

 the creak of windows going up, 

 and — silence. 

 Honk, honk, honk! A mighty flock was coming. 

 The stars shone clear in the far blue ; the trees stood 

 dark on the rim of the North ; and somewhere be- 

 tween the trees and the stars, somewhere along a 

 pathway running north and south, close up against 

 the distant sky, the wild geese were winging. 



Honk, honk, honk ! They were overhead. Clear 

 as bugles, round and mellow as falling flute notes, 

 ordered as the tramp of soldiers, fell the honk, honk, 

 honk, as the flock in single line, or double like the 

 letter V, swept over and was gone. 



We had not seen them. Out of a sound sleep they 

 had summoned us, out of beds with four wooden 



