The river shrank in its bed, and the brooks became rills.
Henry still hunted with his older comrades, though often at night now, and he saw the forest in a new phase.

Dried and burned it appealed to him still.

He learned to sleep lightly, that is, to start up at the slightest sound, and one morning after the wilderness had been growing hotter and dryer than ever he was awakened by a faint liquid touch on the roof.

He knew at once that it was the rain, wished for so long and talked of so much, and he opened the shutter window to see it fall.
The sun was just rising, but showed only a faint glow of pink through the misty clouds, and the wind was light.

The clouds opened but a little at first and the great drops fell slowly.