Chapter 31 No.31

The Bird of Time has but a little way

To flutter-and the Bird is on the wing.

-OMAR KHAYYáM.

It was the third week of November. Winter, the destroyer, was late, but he had come at last. There was death in the air, a whisper of death stole across the empty fields and bare hill-side. The birds heard it and were silent. The November wind was