"What," said he, "when you lives on a dock? No, indeed," he assured her. "You're the kind that _allus_ skips up aloft." One evening, when the sun was going down behind that portion of the town directly west from the Duval shack; and all the roofs and spires were purple-black against a glowing orange sky, Jeanne seized Sammy and Annie; and, calling Michael to follow, raced up the dock toward the huge old furnace smoke-stack. She was careful never to go _very_ close to that, because Old Captain had warned her that it was unsafe; so she paused with her charges at a point where the dock joined the land. She loved that particular spot because the dock at that point was wider than at any other place. It had been wider to begin with. Then, tons of cinders had been dumped into the Cinder Pond and into the lake, on either side of the wharf; filling in the corners. This made wide and pleasing curves rather than sharp angles, at the joining place. "Now, Mike," said she, "you sit down and watch the top of that chimney. And you sit here, Sammy, where you can't fall in. Look up there, Annie. What do you see?" "Birdses," lisped Annie. "Gee! _Look_ at the birds!" exclaimed Michael. "Wait till I shy a rock at them." "No, you don't," replied Jeanne, firmly. "Those are Old Captain's birds. I'll tell him to thrash you if you bother them. He showed them to me last night. Now watch." Everybody watched. The birds were flying in a wide circle above the top of the old chimney. They had formed themselves into a regular procession. They circled and circled and circled; and all the time more birds arrived to join the procession. They were twittering in a curious, excited way. This lasted for at least ten minutes. Then, suddenly, part of the huge circle seemed to touch the chimney top. "Why!" gasped Michael, "they look as if they were pouring themselves right into that chimney like--like--" "Like so much water. Yes, they're really going in. See, they're almost gone. They're putting themselves to bed. They're chimney swallows--they sleep in there. See there!" Two belated birds, too late to join the procession, scurried out of the darkening sky, and twittering frenziedly, hurled themselves into the mouth of the towering stack. "They're policemen," said Michael. "They've sent all the others to jail." "Then what about that one!" asked Jeanne, as a last lone bird, all but shrieking as it scurried through the sky, hurled itself down the chimney. "_That_ one almost got caught," said Sammy. "See, there's a big bird that was chasing it." "A night-hawk," said Jeanne. "Old Captain says there's always _one_ late bird and one big hawk to chase it. Now we must hurry back--it'll soon be dark." As the old wharf, owing to the rotting of the thick planking under the cinders, was full of pitfalls, even by daylight, the children hurried back to their home, chattering about the swallows. "Will they do it again tomorrow night?" asked Michael.