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Fitzhugh, Percy Keese, 1876-1950

"Roy Blakely, Pathfinder"

It would have been a crazy eagle that would build
a nest like that. As nearly as I could make out it was a lot of mountains
all jumbled into one. Harry said it was a kind of a bouquet of mountains.
The trail led up through a pine forest and first it was easy following it.
Then It went down into a hollow and got mixed up with a lot of rocks. I
guess that must have been one of the rooms of the eagle's nest. Anyway, we
couldn't follow it through there so we took a chance and picked it up on
the other side.
That's where the climbing began. Oh boy, that was some tangle-all
underbrush and scrub oak. _Good night_, I don't know how those girls ever
got through there. Pretty soon I stopped and began sniffing.
"Do you know what it reminds me of?" I said.
"It reminds me of raking up the leaves at home."
"It smells like a rake," Hunt Manners said, just joking.
"Not but I mean burning autumn leaves," I said; "you know how it smells in
Bridgeboro in the autumn. Then you know it's getting cold and Thanksgiving
and Christmas are coming. Anyway, you can laugh, but that smell always
reminds me of Thanksgiving.


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