The sky became clear, and the great stars swam
in the dusky blue. Then Shif'less Sol fell asleep, head on the leaves,
feet to the fire, and slept soundly all through the night.
He was up at dawn, cooked his breakfast, and then, after another long and
searching examination of the surrounding forest, departed, leaving the
coals of the fire to smoulder, and tell as they might that some one had
passed. Shif'less Sol throughout that morning repeated the tactics of the
preceding day, leaving footprints that would last, and cutting pieces of
bark from the trees with his sharp hatchet. At the noon hour he stopped,
according to custom, and, just when he had lighted his fire, he uttered a
low cry of pleasure.
The shiftless one was gazing back upon his own trail, and the singular
look of exaltation upon his face deepened. He rose to his feet and stood,
very erect, in the attitude of one who welcomes. No undergrowth was here,
and he could see far down the aisles of trunks.
A figure, so distant that only a keen eye would notice it, was
approaching. It came on swiftly and silently, much after the manner of the
shiftless one himself, elastic, and instinct with strength.
The figure was that of a boy in years, but of a man in size, surpassing
Shif'less Sol himself in height, yellow haired, blue-eyed, and dressed,
too, in the neatest of forest garb.
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