quiet, took up a position at the foot of a scraggly pine. First he drew his coat collar up over his head and thrust his hands into his pockets. Then he began making a choking sound, a most alarming noise to Stanley. Almost as soon as Bub began his vocal efforts a crow cawed excitedly from the other side of the swamp. The cry was taken up and repeated from all points of the compass, and to Stanley’s great amazement a score of black winged investigators swept into the small clearing. Stanley rubbed his eyes in wonderment to see the crows circle about the bowed figure and then fiercely assail it. More came, and more, until the air was black with them. Stanley estimated that fully two hundred were buffeting and pecking at Bub’s silent form. And the choking sound continued. The crows now seemed like demons, red of eye and bristling of feather. Their harsh, discordant voices seemed fairly to scream as they renewed their attacks.
Then Stanley received his second surprise. Bub beat a hand against his leg and hooted like an owl. Instantly every crow turned in flight and faded from view like so many black shadows.
“But what does it all mean?” begged Stan-
