OF IOLAR, THE 
PEREGRINE FALCON 
I 
HE took sanctuary one November dawn, when 
the sky was a purple and primrose setting for 
the morning star. A fortnight long the wax- 
ing of the moon had fostered storms ; now 
the earth lay saturate, studded with pools of 
flood-water, and there was no more wind. 
Yet it was an inhospitable land this to which 
he had strayed. Here were no mountains, 
neither moor nor cliff. It was a level country, 
fully populated, full of prosperity, where a 
freelance such as he might meet with nothing 
but the thunder and leaden spit of Man's 
gun. 
Whence he came, storm-beaten and benighted, 
is not known. Man had set his mark on him 
already three crimson gouts upon his flank 
had taught him the fear of ambushes. North 
and south were alike to him ; east and west 
meant the coming of day and passing of night. 
He drifted eastwards with the wind. The 
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