But when he opened his eyes again he continued to watch the forest, or rather he watched with his ears now, as he lay close to the earth, and his hearing, at all times, was so acute that it seemed to border upon instinct or divination.  But no sound save the usual ones of the forest and the night came to him, and he remained quite still, thinking.

Shif’less Sol Hyde was in an exalted mood, and the flickering firelight showed a face refined and ennobled by a great purpose.  Leading a life that made him think little of hardship and danger he thought nothing at all of them now, but he felt instead a great buoyancy, and a hope equally great.

He lay awake a full three hours after the dark had come, and he rose only twice from his reclining position, each time merely to replenish the fire which remained a red core in the circling blackness.  Always he was listening and always he heard nothing but the usual sounds of the forest and the night.  The darkness grew denser and heavier, but after a while it began to thin and lighten.  The sky became clear, and the great stars swam in the dusky blue.  Then Shif’less Sol fell asleep, head on the leaves, feet to the fire, and slept soundly all through the night.

He was up at dawn, cooked his breakfast, and then, after another long and searching examination of the surrounding forest, departed, leaving the coals of the fire to smoulder, and tell as they might that some one had passed.  Shif’less Sol throughout that morning repeated the tactics of the preceding day, leaving footprints that would last, and cutting pieces of bark from the trees with his sharp hatchet.  At the noon hour he stopped, according to custom, and, just when he had lighted his fire, he uttered a low cry of pleasure.

The shiftless one was gazing back upon his own trail, and the singular look of exaltation upon his face deepened.  He rose to his feet and stood, very erect, in the attitude of one who welcomes.  No undergrowth was here, and he could see far down the aisles of trunks.

A figure, so distant that only a keen eye would notice it, was approaching.  It came on swiftly and silently, much after the manner of the shiftless one himself, elastic, and instinct with strength.

The figure was that of a boy in years, but of a man in size, surpassing Shif’less Sol himself in height, yellow haired, blue-eyed, and dressed, too, in the neatest of forest garb.  His whole appearance was uncommon, likely anywhere to attract attention and admiration.  The shiftless one drew a long breath of mingled welcome and approval.

“I knew that he would be first,” he murmured.

Then he sat down and began to broil a juicy deer steak on the end of a sharpened stick.

Henry Ware came into the little glade.  He had seen the fire afar and he knew who waited.  All was plain to him like the print of a book, and, without a word, he dropped down on the other side of the fire facing Shif’less Sol.  The two nodded, but their eyes spoke far more.  Sol held out the steak, now crisp and brown and full of savor, and Henry began to eat.  Sol quickly broiled another for himself, and joined him in the pleasant task, over which they were silent for a little while.