He turned from his table to the open door, and his fingers drew themselves slowly into clenched fists, and he looked out quietly and steadily into his world.

The darkening depths of the forest reached out before his eyes, mottled and painted in the fading glory of the sun.

It was his world, his everything--father, mother, God.

In it he was born, and in it he knew that some day he would die.

He loved it, understood it, and night and day, in sunshine and storm, its mighty spirit was the spirit that kept him company.