CHAPTER IV.
HOW VERTY THOUGHT, AND PLAYED, AND DREAMED.
Verty took his weary way westward through the splendid autumn woods, gazing with his dreamy Indian expression on the variegated leaves, listening to the far cries of birds, and speaking at times to Longears and Wolf, his two deer hounds.
Then his head would droop--a dim smile would glimmer upon his lips, and his long, curling hair would fall in disordered masses around his burnt face, almost hiding it from view.

At such moments Verty dreamed--the real world had disappeared--perforce of that imagination given him by heaven, he entered calm and happy into the boundless universe of reverie and fancy.
For a time he would go along thus, his arms hanging down, his head bent upon his breast, his body swinging from side to side with every movement of his shaggy little horse.

Then he would rouse himself, and perhaps fit an arrow to his bow, and aim at some bird, or some wild turkey disappearing in the glades.

Happy birds! the arrow never left the string.

Verty's hand would fall--the bow would drop at his side--he would fix his eyes upon the autumn woods, and smile.
He went on thus through the glades of the forest, over the hills, and along the banks of little streams towards the west.