journey northward.

When he passed the Everglades, he winged his way slowly, and repeatedly
sent down a challenging "Chip," but there was no answer. Then the
Cardinal knew that the north wind had carried a true message, for the
king and his followers were ahead of him on their way to the
Limberlost. Mile after mile, a thing of pulsing fire, he breasted the
blue-black night, and it was not so very long until he could discern a
flickering patch of darkness sweeping the sky before him. The Cardinal
flew steadily in a straight sweep, until with a throb of triumph in his
heart, he arose in his course, and from far overhead, flung down a
boastful challenge to the king and his followers, as he sailed above
them and was lost from sight.

It was still dusky with the darkness of night when he crossed the
Limberlost, dropping low enough to see its branches laid bare, to catch
a gleam of green in its swelling buds, and to hear the wavering chorus
of its frogs. But there was no hesitation in his flight. Straight and
sure he winged his way toward the shining river; and it was only a few
more miles until the rolling waters of its springtime flood caught his
eye. Dropping precipitately, he plunged his burning beak into the
loved water; then he flew into a fine old stag sumac and tucked his
head under his wing for a short rest. He had made the long flight in
one unbroken sweep, and he was sleepy. In utter content he ruffled his
feathers and closed his eyes, for he was beside the shining river; and
it would be another season before the orange orchard would ring again
with his "Good Cheer! Good Cheer!"

Chapter 2

"Wet year! Wet year!" prophesied the Cardinal

The sumac seemed to fill his idea of a perfect location from the very
first. He perched on a limb, and between dressing his plumage and
pecking at last year's sour dried berries, he sent abroad his
prediction. Old Mother Nature verified his wisdom by sending a dashing
shower, but he cared not at all for a wetting. He knew how to turn his
crimson suit into the most perfect of water-proof coats; so he
flattened his crest, sleeked his feathers, and breasting the April
downpour, kept on calling for rain. He knew he would appear brighter
when it was past, and he seemed to know, too, that every day of
sunshine and shower would bring nearer his heart's desire.

He was a very Beau Brummel while he waited. From morning until night
he bathed, dressed his feathers, s