He drank again and then sat back among the bushes, still breathing
heavily, but with much more freedom. The sharp pain left his chest,
new strength began to flow into his muscles, and, as the body was
renewed, so the spirit soared up and became sanguine once more. He put
his ear to the earth and listened long, but heard nothing, save sounds
natural to the wilderness, the rustling of leaves before the light
wind, the whisper of the tiny current, and the occasional sweet note
of a bird in brilliant dress, pluming itself on a bough in its pride.
He drew fresh courage from the peace of the woods, and resolved to
remain longer there by the stream. Settling himself into the bushes
and tall grass, until he was hidden from all but a trained gaze, he
waited, body and soul alike growing steadily in vigor.

The forest was in its finest colors. Spring had never brought to it a
more splendid robe, gorgeous and glowing, its green adorned with wild
flowers, and the bloom of bush and tree like a gigantic stretch of
tapestry. The great trunks of oak and elm and maple grew in endless
rows and overhead the foliage gleamed, a veil of emerald lace before
the sun.

Robert drank in the glory, eye and ear, but he never failed to watch
the thickets, and to listen for hostile sounds. He knew full well that
his life rested upon his vigilance and, often as he had been in danger
in the great northern woods, he valued too much these precious days of
his youth to risk their sudden end through any neglect of his own.

He looked now and then at the bird which still preened itself on a
little bough. When the shadows from the waving foliage fell upon
its feathers it showed a bright purple, but when the sunlight poured