The wilderness here circled around him, and, in the distance, it blended into one mass, already showing a pervading note of green with faint touches of pink bloom appearing here and there.

The whole of it was still and peaceful with no sign of human life save a rising spire of smoke behind him that told where Wareville stood.
He walked on.

Rabbits sprang out of the grass beside him and raced away into the thickets.

Birds in plumage of scarlet and blue and gold shot like a flame from tree to tree.

The forest, too, was filled with the melody of their voices, but Henry took no notice.
He paused a while at the edge of a brook to watch the silver sunfish play in the shallows, then he leaped the stream and went on into the deeper woods, a tall, lithe, strong figure, his eyes gazing at no one thing, the long slender-barreled rifle lying forgotten across his shoulder.
A great stag sprang up from the forest and stood for a few moments, gazing at him with expanding and startled eyes.