CHAPTER V.WHEN THE HARVESTER MADE GOOD.
The sassafras and skunk cabbage were harvested.

The last workman was gone.

There was not a sound at Medicine Woods save the babel of bird and animal notes and the never-ending accompaniment of Singing Water.

The geese had gone over, some flocks pausing to rest and feed on Loon Lake, and ducks that homed there were busy among the reeds and rushes.

In the deep woods the struggle to maintain and reproduce life was at its height, and the courting songs of gaily coloured birds were drowned by hawk screams and crow calls of defiance.
Every night before he plunged into the lake and went to sleep the Harvester made out a list of the most pressing work that he would undertake on the coming day.