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Would to God that I had entered the army, old as I am, and that at least I could hope for a death of honor, in arms for Virginia!" The statesman leaned back in his great chair, and was silent. At the same moment a tap was heard at the door; it opened noiselessly, and Nighthawk glided into the apartment.
"Didn't I say they don't have a nest?" sputtered Jenny. "Mrs. Nighthawk doesn't lay but two eggs, anyway. Perhaps she thinks it isn't worth while building a nest for just two eggs. Anyway, she lays them on the ground or on a flat rock and lets it go at that. She isn't quite as bad as Sally Sly the Cowbird, for she does sit on those eggs and she is a good mother.
No sooner had his figure vanished than Nighthawk turned hastily toward me. "Will you go with me to-night, colonel, on an expedition I intend to make?" he said. "An expedition, Nighthawk?" "A work of mercy, colonel; let us talk quickly. That man, Alibi, is a spy for both sides and I wish to arrange every thing before he returns." "Explain, Nighthawk." "I will, colonel.
And nobody believed him when he said that he was asleep all night. They thought that he was awake and doing it purposely. They might have known that he couldn't see in the night, for his eyes are made for daylight and not for darkness, like the eyes of Boomer the Nighthawk and Hooty the Owl.
As they neared he saw José's teeth show in the smile of hate. He waited, his little loop ready for the fling should his chance come. José was over-eager. The great, rawhide hoop whistled and shot down aslant like the swoop of a nighthawk. Surry's eye was upon it unwinkingly.
There was but one means of solving the mystery, and I leaped the fence, riding straight toward the house; soon reaching it, I dismounted and threw open the door. What should greet my eyes, but the respectable figure of Mr. Nighthawk, seated before a cheerful blaze, and calmly smoking his pipe! As I entered, Mr. Nighthawk rose politely, without exhibiting the least mark of astonishment.
Nobody outside the circle ever caught the exact accent except one of Dickens's characters Mr. F.'s aunt who would interrupt a dinner conversation to observe, "There's milestones on the Dover road." "Above our heads," says Mr. Channing, "the nighthawk rips;" "see the frog bellying the world in the warm pool;" "the rats scrabbling." This sententiousness is consistent, on Mr.
"It is very important now," said Stuart; "it indicates Grant's programme his wish to get out of the Wilderness. He is at Old Wilderness Tavern?" "He was this morning, general, with Meade and Sedgwick." "You were there?" "I was, general." "What did you gather, Nighthawk?" "Little or nothing, general. True, I heard one or two amusing things as I loitered among the couriers near." "What?"
Nighthawk sang out. "He's on the ground, under that tree you're in," Kiddie Katydid informed him. Kiddie never moved as he spoke, but clung closely to a twig in the bush where he was hiding. Being green himself, he hardly thought that Mr. Nighthawk would be able to discover him amongst shrubbery of the same color. Chirpy Cricket wished that Kiddie Katydid hadn't replied to Mr. Nighthawk at all.
The black bat and the darting nighthawk were a-wing, grim spectres of the dusk. The whip-poor-will was crying along the river, and far up-stream the loon called weirdly across the water..... A small boy was sitting on grandfather's front steps, his elbows on his knees, his chin in his palms, seeing familiar objects disappear in the gathering dusk, and watching the stars come out.
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