you chose; in fact, you could hardly do otherwise. The first day of my
hunt I started west. I climbed a hill devoted to pasture, passed through
the bars, and faced my mountain. It presented a compact front of
spruce-trees closely interlaced at the ground, and of course impassable.
But a way opened in the midst, the path of a mountain brook, deserted
now and dry. I sought an alpenstock. I abandoned all impedimenta. I
started up that stony path escorted on each side by a close rank of
spruce. It was exceedingly steep, for the way of a brook on this
mountain-side is a constant succession of falls. I scrambled over rocks;
I stumbled on rolling stones; I "caught" on twigs and dead branches; I
crept under fallen tree trunks; the way grew darker and more winding.
How merrily had the water rushed down this path, so hard to go up! How
easy for it to do so again! Nothing seemed so natural. I began to look
and listen for it.

A mysterious reluctance to penetrating the heart of the mountain by this
unknown and strangely hewn path stole over me. I felt like an intruder.
Who could tell what the next turn might reveal? On a fallen trunk that
barred my way I seated myself to rest. The silence was oppressive; not a
bird called, not a squirrel chattered, not an insect hummed. The whole
forest was one vast, deep, overwhelming solitude. I felt my slightest
rustle an impertinence; I could not utter a sound; surely the spirit of
the wood was near! A strange excitement, almost amounting to terror,
possessed me. I turned and fled--that is to say, crept--down my steep
and winding stair, back to the bars where I had taken leave of
civilization (in the shape of one farmhouse).

Here I paused, and again the legend of bluejays allured me. From the
bars, turning sharply to one side, were the tracks of cows. The strange
feeling of oppression vanished. Wherever the gentle beasts had passed, I
could go, sure of finding sunny openings, grassy spots, and nothing
uncanny. Meekly I followed in their footsteps; the solemn grandeur of
the forest had so stirred me that even the footprint of a cow was
companionable.

This path led down through a pleasant fringe of beech and birch and
maple trees to a beautiful brook, which was easily crossed on stones,
then up the bank on the other side into an open pasture with scattering
spruce and other trees. Now I began to look for my bluejays. I disturbed
the peace of a robin, who scolded me roundly from the top spire