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 the flock crossed Casco Bay and Portland harbor.

Early risers on the islands heard the wild exultant slogan of the water fowl, "Honk, honk, honk." They rubbed their sleepy eyes and looked upward. For thirty seconds, or perhaps a minute, they could follow the flying V as it swept on toward the New Hampshire line. By eight o'clock the Squadron turned inland and all alighted upon a small woodscreened lake. Here they fed and rested during the day. As good luck would have it, no hunter discovered them, so they recuperated, and by night were as fresh as they had been the night before. Once again the leader of the flock rose in air and circled about the lake, picking up in turn each of the small flocks until the great formation had been again secured. Then he headed his splendid flying machine back toward the sea and it came rushing on down the New Hampshire coast. By eight o'clock it had passed into Massachusetts. On down the Massachusetts coast they flew, passing over Boston harbor by ten o'clock. They