Here and there the perches
gave way with a crash, and falling destroyed hundreds beneath, forcing
down the dense groups with which every stick was loaded; a scene of
uproar and conflict. I found it useless to speak or even to shout to
those persons nearest me. Even the reports of the guns were seldom
heard, and I was made aware of the firing only by seeing the shooters
reloading. None dared venture within the line of devastation. The hogs
had been penned up in due time, the picking up of the dead and wounded
being left for the next morning's employment. The pigeons were
constantly coming in and it was after midnight before I perceived a
decrease in the number of those that arrived. The uproar continued all
night, and anxious to know how far the sound reached I sent off a man
who, returning two hours after, informed me that he had heard it
distinctly three miles distant.
[Illustration: BAROMETER
Invented by the author in his boyhood]
"Toward daylight the noise in some measure subsided; long before
objects were distinguishable the pigeons began to move off in a
direction quite different from that in which they had arrived the
evening before, and at sunrise all that were able to fly had
disappeared.
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