most part, at least, when these Lesser Brethren sailed down out
of the blue heavens worn with their journey he gave them right of
sanctuary.

"They have come a long way?" she asked.

Wyllard pointed towards the South. "From Florida, Cuba, Yucatan;
further than that, perhaps. In a day or two they'll push on again
towards the Pole, and others will take their places. There's a further
detachment arriving now."

Looking up, Agatha saw a straggling wedge of birds dotted in dusky
specks against the vault, of transcendental green. It coalesced, drew
out again, and dropped swiftly, and the air was filled with the rush of
wings; then there was a harsh crying and splashing, and she heard the
troubled water lap among the reeds until deep silence closed in upon
the sloo again.

"I wonder," she said, "why they do it?"

A rather curious smile crept into Wyllard's eyes. "It's their destiny:
they're wanderers and strangers without a habitation: there's unrest in
them. After a few months on the tundra mosses to gather strength and
teach the young to fly, they'll unfold their wings to beat another
passage before the icy gales. Some of us, I think, are like them!"

Agatha could not avoid the personal application. It would have
appeared less admissible among her friends at The Grange, but she felt
that the constraints of English reticence were out of place in the
wilderness.

"You surely don't apply that to yourself," she said. "You certainly
have a habitation--the finest, isn't it, on this part of the prairie?"

"Yes," said Wyllard slowly; "I suppose it is. I've now had a little
rest and quietness, too."

This did not appear to call for an answer, and Agatha sat silent.

"Still," he said, "I have a feeling that some day the call will come,
and I shall have to take the trail again." He paused, and looked at
her before he added, "It would be easier if one hadn't to go alone, or,
since that would be necessary, if one had at least something to come
back to when the journey was done."

"It would be necessary?" said Agatha, who was rather puzzled by his
steady gaze.

"Yes," he said with a somewhat impressive gravity, "the call will come
from the icy North if it ever comes at all."

There was another brief silence, and Agatha wondered what he was
thinking of until he went on again.

"I remember how I last came back from there. We were rather late that
season, and out of our usual beat when the gale broke upon us be