the fence during the hours of
darkness to peer curiously, though somewhat fearfully, at the lonely
cabin.

Perhaps the visitor might be a black bear in search of the berries which
were sure to be found at the edges of the cleared ground; perhaps a
lynx, staring with pale, savage eyes upon the cabin, hating the man who
occupied it, yet fearing his power. Again it might be an antlered deer
who paused a moment, one dainty hoof uplifted, brown eyes, wholly
curious, fixed upon the silent dwelling. Only the smaller woodfolk such
as rabbits, squirrels, raccoons, porcupines, and now and then a fox,
dared make a closer investigation of the clearing.

As for the man himself, he would, if possible, have made a friend of
every wild creature who came near his dwelling. Broken in health, he had
turned wearily from the rush and clamor of the city to the clear,
balsam-scented air of the woods, where he was fast gaining a health and
vigor that he had not believed possible. Out of a lean face, tanned by
exposure and wrinkled with kindly humor, a pair of keen gray eyes looked
with never-flagging interest upon the busy world about him.

The Hermit, in spite of his comparative isolation from those of his
kind, was far from leading a life of uselessness. Having been from
boyhood an enthusiastic student of botany, he had located in the big
woods many a leaf, bark and root which, when sent back into the busy
world, proved a blessing to ailing humanity.

He knew where to find the aromatic spice-bush to cool the burning of
fever, and where in the spring grew the tenderest willow twigs whose
bark went into cures for rheumatism. Sassafras yielded its savory roots
for tea and tonics, and the purplish red pokeberry supplied a valuable
blood purifier. So he harvested the woods for others, at the same time
finding for himself health and contentment.

Twice yearly he took his harvest to the nearest shipping center, setting
forth as the first streaks of dawn appeared in the east, and returning
when the serrated wall of the wilderness was etched sharply against the
sunset sky, and the songs of the robin and the hermit thrush gave voice
to the twilight.

Since his arrival at the cabin the Hermit had been much alone, his only
visitors being occasional hunters or trappers who passed his home by
chance, or asked shelter when overtaken by the night. At infrequent
intervals one of his distant neighbors would drop in to chat or to ask
aid in case of illn