Again he listened to the lazy hum of the sawmill, and over his head he heard the velvety run of a red squirrel and then its reckless chattering.

The forests came back to him.

Across his cot fell a patch of golden sunlight.

A stronger breath of air came laden with the perfume of balsam and cedar through his window, and when the door opened and Cardigan entered, he found the old Kent facing him.
There was no change in Cardigan's voice or manner as he greeted him.
But there was a tenseness in his face which he could not conceal.

He had brought in Kent's pipe and tobacco.