sky. From among the branches a sudden clamour rose, and a black battalion of crows flew upward from its fastness. Densely the cloud ascended, then broke into flying fragments. In all directions the dark birds sped, cleaving the air with vigorous strokes. The sweet morning air was rent by the tumult of their cries.
"Look! Look!" cried Jimmy, with a dramatic flourish of the hand skyward. "That's one of the sights I brought you to see. Nobody gives any heed to them here except to fetch a gun and shoot them, but I love them." He went to the water's edge and raised his face to them, circling and cawing above. "I call them my crows. . . . They're savage wild things and yet I love them because I seem to know what they're up to. They've got a plan of action, mind you, like an army. They've captains, and sentries, and they're all told off in the direction they're to go. Listen, now, and hear them."
She came and leant against his shoulder, her face raised, too; her lips parted in a wide, wondering smile. Jimmy went on—
"Listen to them! They're like sailors setting off for new lands! 'Bill—Bill—Bill—where's Bill? Hurry up, Bill! Jake—Jake—where's Jake? Up, lads—up, lads—heave ho! ho! ho! Call the gals! Where are the gals? Down below—below. Get 'em up! Rouse 'em up! Maggie! Kate! Kate! Kate!'"
In a cloud the birds sped overhead, leaning on the breeze, shouting, dipping, stretching their wings, sailing, sweeping, screaming. The shadow of their mass swept with pomp across the red lagoon.
Jimmy was enraptured. He had to shout to make himself heard above the din. "Hear that chap calling—'Kate—Kate—Kate?"
She nodded and he gripped her waist.
