Buck Daniels sat lunging forward in his chair, his knees supporting his elbows, and scowled up at the window with a sort of sullen terror.
Then Byrne heard it--so small a voice that at first he thought it was only a part of the silence.

It grew and grew--in a sudden burst it was clear to every ear--the honking of the wild geese! And Byrne knew the picture they made.

He could see them far up in the sky--a dim triangle of winter grey--moving with the beat of lightning wings each in an arrowy flight north, and north, and north.

Creatures for sport all the world over; here alone, in all the earth, in the heart of this mountain-desert, they were in some mysterious wise messengers.
Once more the far discord showered down upon them, died as they rose, perhaps, to a higher level, and was heard no more..