The magnificent spaces and
mighty silence appealed to him with increasing force. The columns of the
trees were like cathedral aisles and the pure breath of the wind was
fresh with life.
The first part of the autumn was hot and dry. The foliage died fast, the
leaves twisted and dried up and the brown grass stems fell lifeless to
the earth. A long time they were without rain, and a dull haze of heat
hung over the simmering earth. 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.
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