“How strangely the gulls act!” said Ann.
Dozens of the great gray birds were poised over the spot where the children knew that the swamp pond lay circled with great pines. Their wings were outstretched as they rode the still air and they were calling in a confused jumble of high-pitched chuckling cries.
“They ought to light.” Jo’s face was puzzled. “Strange the way they hang up there. Usually it looks as if they dropped straight down, out of sight.”
“Why do they come inland?” asked Ben. “To get out of the wind?”
“Partly. But they know, same as I do, that the storm will blow the fish up the river to seek quiet water.”
“I don’t believe that they mean to settle on the pond to-night,” Ann ventured after a while.
“Strange,” said Jo again. “It would almost seem as though something down there on the pond was keeping them off, but gulls don’t fret about muskrats. I never have heard of a bobcat around these parts, but it looks suspicious to see them act in that jumpy way.”
“Perhaps it’s the same animal that took our cheese,” suggested Ann.
“Perhaps,” agreed Jo. He dropped his eyes from the poised birds and ran them thoughtfully along the fringe of the woods where the trees cut sharply into the growing twilight. Suddenly he caught hold of Ben’s arm.
“Look! See there!”