redemption was even
now hovering close to him,--some unspeakable and ultimate blessing that
he could not name.

Their days were not without pleasure. Often they ventured far into the
heavy forest, and always fresh delight and thrilling adventure awaited
them. Ever they learned more of the wild things that were their only
neighbors,--creatures all the way down the scale from the lordly moose,
proud of his growing antlers and monarch of the marshes, to the small
pika, squeaking on the slide-rock of the high peaks. They knew and loved
them all; they found ever-increasing enjoyment in the study of their shy
ways and furtive occupations; they observed with delight the droll
awkwardness of the moose calves, the impertinence and saucy speech of
the jays, the humor of the black bear and the surly arrogance of the
grizzly. They knew that superlative cunning of his wickedness, the
wolverine; the stealth of the red fox; the ferociousness of the ermine
whose brown skin, soon to be white, suggested only something silken and
soft and tender instead of a fiendish cutthroat, terror of the Little
People; the skulking cowardice of the coyote; and the incredible
savagery and agility of the fisher,--that middle-sized hunter that
catches and kills everything he can master except fish. They climbed
high hills and descended into still, mysterious valleys; they paddled
long, dreamy twilight hours on the lake; they traversed marshes where
the moose wallowed; and they walked through ancient forests where the
decayed vegetation was a mossy pulp under their feet. Sometimes they
forgot the poignancy of their strange lives, romping sometimes,
gossiping like jays in the tree-limbs, and sometimes, forgetting enmity,
they told each other their secret beliefs and philosophies. They had
picnics in the woods; and long, comfortable evenings before their
dancing fire. But there was one enduring joy that always surpassed all
the rest, a happiness that seemed to have its origin in the silent
places of their hearts. It was just the return, after a fatiguing day in
forest and marsh, to the sheltering walls of the cave.

With his axe and hunting knife Ben prepared a complete set of furniture
for their little abode. His first Work was a surpassing-marvelous
dining-room suite of a table and two chairs. Then he put up shelves for
their rapidly dwindling supplies of provisions and cut chunks of spruce
log, with a bit of bark remaining, for fireside seats. And for