The trees were in the tender green leafage of early May, and their solid expanse stretched away hundreds and thousands of miles into the unknown west.

Early wild flowers, a shy pink or a modest blue, bloomed in the grass.

Deer started from their coverts, crashed through the thickets, and the sky darkened with the swarms of wild fowl flying north.

Birds of brilliant plumage flashed among the leaves and often chattered overhead, heedless of the passing army.

Now and then the soldiers sang, and the song passed from the head of the column along its rippling red, yellow and brown length of four miles.
It was a cheerful army, more it was a gay army, enjoying the wilderness which it was seeing at one of the finest periods of the year, wondering at the magnificence of the forest, and the great number of streams that came rushing down from the mountains.
"It's a noble country," said Grosvenor to Robert.