ries."

The great pine woods had a loud, far-reaching voice, "Here are we, the
Pine-trees," but when he got right up to them Wahb could hear the low,
sweet call of the pinon-nuts, "Here are we, the Pinon-nuts."

And the quamash beds in May sang a perfect chorus when the wind was right:
"Quamash beds, Quamash beds."

And when he got among them he made out each single voice. Each root had
its own little piece to say to his nose: "Here am I, a big Quamash, rich
and ripe," or a tiny, sharp voice, "Here am I, a good-for-nothing, stringy
little root."

[Illustration]

And the broad, rich russulas in the autumn called aloud, "I am a fat,
wholesome Mushroom," and the deadly amanita cried, "I am an Amanita. Let me
alone, or you'll be a sick Bear." And the fairy harebell of the canyon-banks
sang a song too, as fine as its thread-like stem, and as soft as its dainty
blue; but the warden of the smells had learned to report it not, for this,
and a million other such, were of no interest to Wahb.

So every living thing that moved, and every flower that grew, and every
rock and stone and shape on earth told out its tale and sang its little
story to his nose. Day or night, fog or bright, that great, moist nose told
him most of the things he needed to know, or passed unnoticed those of no
concern, and he depended on it more and more. If his eyes and ears together
reported so and so, he would not even then believe it until his nose said,
"Yes; that is right."

But this is something that man cannot understand, for he has sold the
birthright of his nose for the privilege of living in towns.

[Illustration]

While hundreds of smells were agreeable to Wahb, thousands were indifferent
to him, a good many were unpleasant, and some actually put him in a rage.

He had often noticed that if a west wind were blowing when he was at the
head of the Piney Canyon there was an odd, new scent. Some days he did not
mind it, and some days it disgusted him; but he never followed it up. On
other days a north wind from the high Divide brought a most awful smell,
something unlike any other, a smell that he wanted only to get away from.

* * * * *

[Illustration]

Wahb was getting well past his youth now, and he began to have pains in the
hind leg that had been wounded so often. After a cold night or a long time
of wet weather he could scarcely use that leg, and one day, while thus
crippled,