Twilight shades stealing down over the camp-fire; the cheery glow of red embers; the crackling of dry stocks; the sweet smell of wood smoke, all had for the lad a subtle, potent charm.
The hunter would broil a venison steak, or a partridge, on the coals.

Then they would light their pipes and smoke while twilight deepened.

The oppressive stillness of the early evening hour always brought to the younger man a sensation of awe.

At first he attributed this to the fact that he was new to this life; however, as the days passed and the emotion remained, nay, grew stronger, he concluded it was imparted by this close communion with nature.

Deep solemn, tranquil, the gloaming hour brought him no ordinary fullness of joy and clearness of perception.
"Do you ever feel this stillness ?" he asked Wetzel one evening, as they sat near their flickering fire.
The hunter puffed his pipe, and, like an Indian, seemed to let the question take deep root.
"I've scalped redskins every hour in the day, 'ceptin' twilight," he replied.
Joe wondered no longer whether the hunter was too hardened to feel this beautiful tranquillity.