All was happening as he had planned.

Then he swung the rifle back to his shoulder, and walked to the crest of a hill near by.
The summit was bare and the shiftless one saw far.

It was a splendid rolling country, covered with forests of oak and elm, beech, hickory and maple.

Here and there faint threads of silver showed where rivers or brooks flowed, and he drew a long deep breath.

The measure of line and verse he knew not, but deep in his being Nature had kindled the true fire of poetry, and now his pleasure was so keen and sharp that a throb of emotion stirred in his throat.