Full five minutes passed, and not one of the vultures showed signs of stirring--five minutes of prolonged and terrible suspense. It was odd that the birds had not at once swooped down upon the piece of venison: since it lay conspicuously upon the ground--almost under the tree where they were perched! A score of them there were--ranged along the dead limbs--each with an eye keen of sight as an eagle's! Beyond doubt, they observed the object--they would have seen it a mile off, and recognised it too--why, then, were they disregarding it--a circumstance so contradictory of their natural instincts and habits, that, even in that dread hour, I remarked its singularity? The cause might have been simple enough: perhaps the birds had already glutted themselves elsewhere? Some wild beast of the woods--more likely, some straying ox--had fallen a victim to disease and the summer heats; and his carcase had furnished them with their morning's meal? There was evidence of the truth of this, in their blood-stained beaks and gorged maws, as also the indolent attitudes in which they roosted--many of them apparently asleep! Others at intervals stretched forth their necks, and half spread their wings; but only to yawn and catch the cooling breeze. Not one of all the listless flock, showed the slightest disposition to take wing. There were several already in the air, wheeling high aloft; and two or three had just joined their companions--increasing the cluster upon the tree. These had arrived, after we had taken our stand; and others were constantly coming down. But the signal mutually agreed to was mutually understood: it was the _departure_ of one of the birds--not its _arrival_--that was to give the cue of _entree_ to the tragic act--the signal for the scene of death. Those five minutes to me appeared fifty--ah! far more than that: for, brief as was the actual time, a world of thoughts passed through my mind during its continuance. The past and future were alike considered. The memory of home, kindred, and friends; the probability that all such ties were to be severed _now_ and for ever; some regret that laurels lately won were to be so briefly worn; the near prospect of life's termination; of a death inglorious--perhaps scarcely to be recorded; vague visions of a future world; doubts not unmingled with dread, about the life to come: such were the thoughts that whirled confusedly through my brain. And the _proximate_ past had also its share in my reflections--perhaps occupying the largest space of all. That thing of light and gold--that but an hour ago had filled my heart to overflowing--was still there, mingling with its last emotions! Was I never more to look upon that radiant form? never more behold that face so divinely fair? never more listen to that melodious voice? Never more! The negative answer to these mental interrogatives--though only conjectural--was the bitterest reflection of all!