Her Eyes Were Bright With Wisdom

Of mornings, while the lake exhaled a wreathing mist, Valiant and the flock of Geese followed the Old One to the feeding grounds, and were soundly drilled in the maneuvers of flight. Thus, it was proper at times to break formation, creating of the one flock from two to four lesser V's, that these might he united again at the Old One's call, in orderly evolution. And on hearing the stubble he would give them leave to swing forward on either flank, until the line of trumpeters advanced abreast, flying slowly as they chatted of the field beneath. Valiant outshone his fellows in nimbleness of wit and wing, and it was said among the flock that the Old One had marked him for preferment.

At least he gave to Valiant the coveted post of sentinel; and. since a t need not be lonely, Valiant chose the comely young goose to keep him company those times he watched apart. Of the two, it must he confessed, she was the more vigilant, which was well for Valiant. He paid little heed to all the gossip of April, for it seemed to him the world was good when food was plentiful and sweet water to be had within a short flight. But near Lake-That-Is-Far-Enough he twice had such word of April as gave him thought, and each time the word was sunless, yet wonderful, as well. For him these matters might have lacked significance, but to her who fed with him they were meaningful, and Valiant marveled secretly at her sagacity.

There was a goose that did not fly with the flocks, nor seek the lake when they returned, but who lived apart, and on the feeding grounds frequented the highest knolls. There she was to be seen at almost any hour of daylight, lifting her head to call and call again. And of the answers that came back to her she would have none, but, shaking her wings impatiently, would send another call ringing over lake and prairie, listening intently for an answer that did not come. Longing was in her call, and grief, and faith, and when Valiant had heard it often he spoke to the comely goose, for it puzzled him.

Again her eyes were bright with an old wisdom. "It is her mate she calls," said the goose.

"Let her be silent, that witless one, if he does not answer," hissed Valiant. "He will come when he chooses."
"Valiant," she said, "Her mate will not come to her this day or another. He has been quiet for three Aprils past."
"Then she is thrice foolish," answered Valiant, "since he cannot come."
"That, too, she knows," said the goose, "yet she must call."
It is so the birds speak of their dead, when wings are folded and cry and song are taken away. They call it quiet.