In an hour, when he was half down the slope, the forest had become warm and dry, fragrant and still.

At length he rode out upon the brow of a last wooded bench above a grassy valley, where a bright, winding stream gleamed in the sun.

While the horses rested Wade looked about him.

Nature never tired him.

If he had any peace it emanated from the silent places, the solemn hills, the flowers and animals of the wild and lonely land.
A few straggling pines shaded this last low hill above the valley.