Next
I broke open a box of cartridges and loaded the Winchester. My revolver was
already loaded, and hung on my belt. Remembering Dick's letters about the
bears and mountain-lions in Penetier Forest, I got a good deal of comfort
out of my weapons. Then I built a fire, and while my supper was cooking I
scraped up a mass of pine-needles for a bed. Never had I sat down to a meal
with such a sense of strange enjoyment.
But when I had finished and had everything packed away and covered, my mind
began to wander in unexpected directions. Why was it that the twilight
seemed to move under the giant pines and creep down the hollow? While I
gazed the gray shadows deepened to black, and night came suddenly. My
campfire seemed to give almost no light, yet close at hand the flickering
gleams played hide-and-seek among the pines and chased up the straight tree
trunks. The crackling of my fire and the light steps of the grazing
mustangs only emphasized the silence of the forest. Then a low moaning from
a distance gave me a chill. At first I had no idea what it was, but
presently I thought it must be the wind in the pines. It bore no
resemblance to any sound I had ever before heard in the woods. It would
murmur from different parts of the forest; sometimes it would cease for a
little, and then travel and swell toward me, only to die away again.
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