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As he turned the thing over in his mind there came faintly, ever so faintly, to him from far, far to the south, as though but a breath of wind, the familiar "Whip-poor-will." "Whip-poor-will-l-l," shrilled back Slim. He waited, but there was no answer. It was as though a whip-poor-will itself was mocking his plight.
Some planks were sawed at the mill and sledded to the ox-bow on the ice, too, and when the plaintive call of the muckawis the Indian name for the "whip-poor-will," ushered in the spring, a noble company of Green Mountain Boys gathered to build the widow's house again.
In the distance Sweetvoice the Vesper Sparrow was pouring out his evening song, for it was the hour when he dearly loves to sing. Far back in the Green Forest Whip-poor-will was calling as if his very life depended on the number of times he could say, "Whip poor Will," without taking a breath.
"We are not now under the roof of the Whip-Poor-Will, wife of mine, but in the presence of those who need none of thy suggestions to give proper forms to an examination of office." Faith heeded no reproof.
When they slept it was usually broad daylight outside, and the birds except for a few odd fellows like Willie Whip-poor-will and Mr. Night Hawk were abroad, and singing, and twittering. And when most of the birds went to sleep Dickie and Fatty Coon began to feel quite wide awake.
"That," said the captain, "is the British man-o'-war's flag." The "Whip-poor-will" speedily whisked the party and others across the sparkling waters to the foot of the grand stairway which had been specially constructed to conduct the elect from the tide to the deck.
The man at the other end felt the signal and whispered to a companion, who quietly disappeared in the direction of the river and shortly afterward the mournful cry of a whip-poor-will dirged out on the early morning air. It had hardly died away when the quiet was broken by one terrific crash of rifles, and the two camp guards asleep at the fire awoke in another world. Mr.
We've been flying From tree to tree, with stillest motions spying Into frail nests; and every dreaming bird Popped up his head, when he our whispers heard. They told us all their secrets many a one That is not warbled to the full-rayed sun. But dance away; we will go rest a while, While you with sports and songs the time beguile. JULIA. O, whip-poor-will, dost thou hear that tone?
The loneliness seemed drawing closer like a mist, and the cry of a whip-poor-will from the little stream in the meadow sent frightened thrills, like needles, through her limbs. Straight ahead the sun was setting in a pale red west, against which the mountains stood out as if sculptured in stone.
The night was as cool as the one when we arrived at Andersonville, the earth, meagerly sodded with sparse, hard, wiry grass, was the same; the same piney breezes blew in from the surrounding trees, the same dismal owls hooted at us; the same mournful whip-poor-will lamented, God knows what, in the gathering twilight.
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