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208
Animal Heroes
·
Ernest Thompson Seton
59
The
fast
express
was
steaming
down
the
valley.
It
was
far
ahead,
but
Arnaux
overtook
and
passed
it,
as
the
flying
wild
Duck
passes
the
swimming
Muskrat.
High
in
the
valleys
he
went,
low
over
the
hills
of
Chenango,
where
the
pines
were
combing
the
breezes.
Out
from
his
oak-tree
eyrie
a
Hawk
came
wheeling
and
sailing,
silent,
for
he
had
marked
the
Flyer,
and
meant
him
for
his
prey.
Arnaux
turned
neither
right
nor
left,
nor
raised
nor
lowered
his
flight,
nor
lost
a
wing-beat.
The
Hawk
was
in
waiting
in
the
gap
ahead,
and
Arnaux
passed
him,
even
as
a
Deer
in
his
prime
may
pass
by
a
Bear
in
his
pathway.
Home!
home!
was
the
only
burning
thought,
the
blinding
impulse.
Beat,
beat,
beat,
those
flashing
pinions
went
with
speed
unslacked
on
the
now
familiar
road.
In
an
hour
the
Catskills
were
at
hand.
In
two
hours
he
was
passing
over
them.
Old
friendly
places,
swiftly
coming
now,
lent
more
force
to
his
wings.
Home!
home!
was
the
silent
song
that
his
heart
was
singing.
Like
the
traveller
dying
of
thirst,
that
sees
the
palm-trees
far
ahead,
his
brilliant
eyes
took
in
the
distant
smoke
of
Manhattan.
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