only the
drowsing murmur of it, and his nose caught only the sweet scents of
cedars and balsams and of flowering and ripening things. Straight ahead,
beyond the white shore line, was a low ridge, and this ridge--where it
was not purple and black with the evergreen--was red with the crimson
blotches of mountain-ash berries, and patches of fire flowers that
glowed like flame in the setting sun.

From out of this paradise, as they drew near to it, came softly the
voice and song of birds and the chatter of red squirrels. A big jay
was screeching over it all, and between the first ridge and the
second--which rose still higher beyond it--a cloud of crows were
circling excitedly over a mother black bear and her half grown cubs
as they feasted on the red ash berries. But Peter could not smell the
bears, nor hear them, and the distant crows were of less interest than
the wonder and mystery of the shore close at hand.

He turned from his place in the bow of the canoe, and looked at his
master. There was little of inspiration in Jolly Roger's face or eyes.
The glory of the world ahead gave him no promise, as it gave promise to
Peter. Beyond what he could see there lay, for him, a vast emptiness, a
chaos of loneliness, an eternity of shattered hopes and broken dreams.
Love of life was gone out of him. He saw no beauty. The sun had changed.
The sky was different. The bigness of his wilderness no longer thrilled
him, but oppressed him.

Peter sensed sharply the change in his master without knowing the reason
for it. Just as the world had changed for Jolly Roger, so Jolly Roger
had changed for Peter.

They landed on a beach of sand, soft as a velvet carpet. Peter jumped
out. A long-legged sandpiper and her mate ran down the shore ahead of
him. He perked up his angular ears, and then his nose caught a fresh
scent under his feet where a porcupine had left his trail. And he heard
more clearly the raucous tumult of the jay and the musical chattering of
the red squirrels.

All these things were satisfactory to Peter. They were life, and life
thrilled him, just as it had thrilled his master a few days ago. He
adventured a little distance up to the edge of the green willows and
the young birch and the crimson masses of fire flowers that fringed the
beginning of the forest. It had rained recently here, and the scents
were fresh and sweet.

He found a wild currant bush, glistening with its luscious black
berries, and began nibbling at