“A lot of Erie and Ontario, but not so much of those farther west, Michigan, Huron and Superior, although they’re far bigger and grander.  Nothing like ’em in the lake line in this world.  We don’t know much about Superior, but I gather from the Indians that it’s nigh to four hundred miles long, and maybe a hundred and fifty miles across in the middle.  What a power of water!  That’s not a lake!  It’s a fresh-water sea.  I’ve seen Niagara, too, Robert, where the river comes tumbling over two mighty cliffs, and the foam rises up to the sky, and the rainbow is always arching over the chasm below.  It’s a tremendous sight and it keeps growing on you the longer you look at it.  The Indians, who like myths and allegories, have a fine story about it.  They say that Heno, to whom Manitou gave charge of the thunderbolt, once lived in the great cave or hollow behind the falls, liking the damp and the eternal roar of the waters.  And Manitou to help him keep a watch over all the thunderbolts gave him three assistants who have never been named.  Now, the nations of the Hodenosaunee call themselves the grandchildren of Heno, and when they make invocation to him they call him grandfather.  But they hold that Heno is always under the direction of Hawenneyu, the Great Spirit, who I take it is the same in their minds as Manitou.  The more you learn of the Indians, and especially of the Hodenosaunee, Robert, the more you admire the beauty and power of their minds.”

Willet spoke with great earnestness, his own mind through the experiences of many years being steeped in forest lore and imagery.  Robert, although he knew less of Indian mythology, nevertheless knew enough to feel for it a great admiration.

“I studied the myths of the Greeks and Romans at Albany,” he said, “and I don’t see that they were very much superior to those of the Indians.”

“Maybe they weren’t superior at all,” said Willet, “and I don’t believe the Greeks and Romans ever had a country like the one in which we are roaming.  The Book says God made the world in six days, and I think He must have spent one whole day, and His best day, too, on the country in here.  Think of the St Lawrence, and all the big lakes and middle-sized lakes and little lakes, and the Hudson and the other splendid rivers, and the fine mountains east of the Hudson and west of it, and all the grand valleys, and the great country of the Hodenosaunee, and the gorgeous green forest running hundreds and hundreds of miles, every way!  I tell you, Robert—­and it’s no sacrilege either—­after He did such a splendid and well-nigh perfect job He could stop for the night and call it a good and full day’s work.  I reckon that nowhere else on the earth’s surface are so many fine and wonderful things crowded into one region.”

He took a deep breath and gazed with responsive eyes at the dim blue crests of the mountains.

“It’s all that you call it,” said Robert, whose soul was filled with the same love and admiration, “and I’m glad I was born within its limits.  I’ve noticed, Dave, that the people of old lands think they alone have love of country.  New people may love a new land just as much, and I love all this country about us, the lakes, and the rivers, and the mountains and the valleys and the forests.”