It was worst at night, when he lay awake by a window, breathing the hot
air, then the deep cool forest extended to him her kindest invitation,
and it took all his resolution to resist her welcome. The wind among the
trees was like music, but it was a music to which he must close his
ears. Then he remembered his vast wanderings with Black Cloud and his
red friends, how they had crossed great and unnamed rivers, the days in
the endless forest and the other days on the endless plains, and of the
mighty lake they had reached in their northernmost journey--how cool and
pleasant that lake seemed now! His mind ran over every detail of the
great buffalo hunts, of those trips along the streams to trap the beaver
and the events in the fight with the hostile tribe.
All these recollections seemed very vivid and real to him now, and the
narrow life of Wareville faded into a mist out of which shone only the
faces of those whom he loved--it was they alone who had brought him back
to Wareville, but he knew that their ways were not his ways, and it was
hard to confine his spirit within the narrow limits of a settlement.
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