in vain, for any variety, no matter how
terrible it might be.

The second morning the reports from all the districts round were more
alarming than ever. Farmers began to dread the coming of winter as they
saw the dwindling of the timely fruitfulness of the earth. And as yet it
was only a warning of evil, not the evil accomplished; the ground began
to look bare whenever some passing sound temporarily frightened the
birds.

Edgar Caswall tortured his brain for a long time unavailingly, to think
of some means of getting rid of what he, as well as his neighbours, had
come to regard as a plague of birds. At last he recalled a circumstance
which promised a solution of the difficulty. The experience was of some
years ago in China, far up-country, towards the head-waters of the Yang-
tze-kiang, where the smaller tributaries spread out in a sort of natural
irrigation scheme to supply the wilderness of paddy-fields. It was at
the time of the ripening rice, and the myriads of birds which came to
feed on the coming crop was a serious menace, not only to the district,
but to the country at large. The farmers, who were more or less
afflicted with the same trouble every season, knew how to deal with it.
They made a vast kite, which they caused to be flown over the centre spot
of the incursion. The kite was shaped like a great hawk; and the moment
it rose into the air the birds began to cower and seek protection--and
then to disappear. So long as that kite was flying overhead the birds
lay low and the crop was saved. Accordingly Caswall ordered his men to
construct an immense kite, adhering as well as they could to the lines of
a hawk. Then he and his men, with a sufficiency of cord, began to fly it
high overhead. The experience of China was repeated. The moment the
kite rose, the birds hid or sought shelter. The following morning, the
kite was still flying high, no bird was to be seen as far as the eye
could reach from Castra Regis. But there followed in turn what proved
even a worse evil. All the birds were cowed; their sounds stopped.
Neither song nor chirp was heard--silence seemed to have taken the place
of the normal voices of bird life. But that was not all. The silence
spread to all animals.

The fear and restraint which brooded amongst the denizens of the air
began to affect all life. Not only did the birds cease song or chirp,
but the lowing of the cattle ceased in the fields and the varied sounds
of life