watched the girl's every step； helping her over the difficult
places； pushing aside the tangled branches； his eyes resting
upon her as frankly； as tenderly as a mother looks at her
child。 In single file we marched through the gray morning；
clearing cold after the storm； and the silence was seldom
broken； for we had little heart to talk。
At last we came to the high； lonely ridge； the dwarf
forest； the huge； couchant bulk of Spy Rock。 There； on the back
of it； with his right arm hanging over the edge； was the outline
of Edward Keene's form。 It was as if some monster had seized him
and flung him over its shoulder to carry away。
We called to him but there was no answer。 The doctor
climbed up with me； and we hurried to the spot where he was
lying。 His face was turned to the sky； his eyes blindly
staring； there was no pulse； no breath； he was already cold in
death。 His right hand and arm； the side of his neck and face
were horribly swollen and livid。 The doctor stooped down and
examined the hand carefully。 〃See！〃 he cried； pointing to a
great bruise on his wrist； with two tiny punctures in the
middle of it from which a few drops of blood had oozed； 〃a
rattlesnake has struck him。 He must have fairly put his hand
upon it； perhaps in the dark； when he was climbing。 And；
look； what is this？〃
He picked up a flat silver box； that lay open on the rock。
There were two olive…green pellets of a resinous paste in it。
He lifted it to his face； and drew a long breath。
〃Yes；〃 he said； 〃it is Gunjab； the most powerful form of
Hashish； the narcotic hemp of India。 Poor fellow； it saved
him from frightful agony。 He died in a dream。〃
〃You are right；〃 I said； 〃in a dream； and for a dream。〃
We covered his face and climbed down the rock。 Dorothy
and Graham were waiting below。 He had put his coat around
her。 She was shivering a little。 There were tear…marks on
her face。
〃Well；〃 I said； 〃you must know it。 We have lost him。〃
〃Ah！〃 said the girl； 〃I lost him long ago。〃
WOOD…MAGIC
There are three vines that belong to the ancient forest。
Elsewhere they will not grow； though the soil prepared for
them be never so rich； the shade of the arbour built for them
never so closely and cunningly woven。 Their delicate；
thread…like roots take no hold upon the earth tilled and
troubled by the fingers of man。 The fine sap that steals
through their long； slender limbs pauses and fails when they
are watered by human hands。 Silently the secret of their life
retreats and shrinks away and hides itself。
But in the woods； where falling leaves and crumbling
tree…trunks and wilting ferns have been moulded by Nature into
a deep； brown humus； clean and fragrantin the woods； where
the sunlight filters green and golden through interlacing
branches； and where pure moisture of distilling rains and
melting snows is held in treasury by never…failing banks of
mossunder the verdurous flood of the forest； like sea…weeds
under the ocean waves； these three little creeping vines put
forth their hands with joy； and spread over rock and hillock and
twisted tree…root and mouldering log； in cloaks and scarves and
wreaths of tiny evergreen； glossy leaves。
One of them is adorned with white pearls sprinkled lightly
over its robe of green。 This is Snowberry； and if you eat of
it； you will grow wise in the wisdom of flowers。 You will
know where to find the yellow violet； and the wake…robin； and
the pink lady…slipper； and the scarlet sage； and the fringed
gentian。 You will understand how the buds trust themselves to
the spring in their unfolding； and how the blossoms trust
themselves to the winter in their withering； and how the busy
bands of Nature are ever weaving the beautiful garment of life
out of the strands of death； and nothing is lost that yields
itself to her quiet handling。
Another of the vines of the forest is called Partridge…berry。
Rubies are hidden among its foliage； and if you eat of this
fruit； you will grow wise in the wisdom of birds。 You will know
where the oven…bird secretes her nest； and where the wood…cock
dances in the air at night； the drumming…log of the ruffed grouse
will be easy to find； and you will see the dark lodges of the
evergreen thickets inhabited by hundreds of warblers。 There will
be no dead silence for you in the forest； any longer； but you
will hear sweet and delicate voices on every side； voices that
you know and love； you will catch the key…note of the silver
flute of the woodthrush； and the silver harp of the veery； and
the silver bells of the hermit； and something in your heart will
answer to them all。 In the frosty stillness of October nights
you will see the airy tribes flitting across the moon； following
the secret call that guides them southward。 In the calm
brightness of winter sunshine； filling sheltered copses with
warmth and cheer； you will watch the lingering blue…birds and
robins and song…sparrows playing at summer； while the chickadees
and the juncos and the cross…bills make merry in the windswept
fields。 In the lucent mornings of April you will hear your old
friends coming home to you； Phoebe； and Oriole； and
Yellow…Throat； and Red…Wing； and Tanager； and Cat…Bird。 When
they call to you and greet you； you will understand that Nature
knows a secret for which man has never found a wordthe secret
that tells itself in song。
The third of the forest…vines is Wood…Magic。 It bears neither
flower nor fruit。 Its leaves are hardly to be distinguished
from the leaves of the other vines。 Perhaps they are a little
rounder than the Snowberry's； a little more pointed than the
Partridge…berry's； sometimes you might mistake them for the
one； sometimes for the other。 No marks of warning have been
written upon them。 If you find them it is your fortune； if
you taste them it is your fate。
For as you browse your way through the forest； nipping
here and there a rosy leaf of young winter…green； a fragrant
emerald tip of balsam…fir； a twig of spicy birch； if by chance
you pluck the leaves of Wood…Magic and eat them； you will not
know what you have done； but the enchantment of the tree…land
will enter your heart and the charm of the wildwood will flow
through your veins。
You will never get away from it。 The sighing of the wind
through the pine…trees and the laughter of the stream in its
rapids will sound through all your dreams。 On beds of silken
softness you will long for the sleep…song of whispering leaves
above your head； and the smell of a couch of balsam…boughs。 At
tables spread with dainty fare you will be hungry for the joy of
the hunt； and for the angler's sylvan feast。 In proud cities you
will weary for the sight of a mountain trail； in great cathedrals
you will think of the long； arching aisles of the woodland； and
in the noisy solitude of crowded streets you will hone after the
friendly forest。
This is what will happen to you if you eat the leaves of
that little vine； Wood…Magic。 And this is what happened to
Luke Dubois。
I
The Cabin by the Rivers
Two highways meet before the door； and a third reaches away to
the southward； broad and smooth and white。 But there are no
travellers passing by。 The snow that has fallen during the
night is unbroken。 The pale February sunrise makes blue shadows
on it； sharp and jagged； an outline of the fir…trees on the
mountain…crest quarter of； a mile away。
In summer the highways are dissolved into three wild
riversthe River of Rocks； which issues from the hills； the
River of Meadows； which flows from the great lake； and the
River of the Way Out； which runs down from their meeting…place
to the settlements and the little world。 But in winter； when
the ice is firm under the snow； and the going is fine； there
are no tracks upon the three broad roads except the paths of
the caribou； and the footprints of the marten and the mink and
the fox； and the narrow trails made by Luke Dubois on his way
to and from his cabin by the rivers。
He leaned in the door…way； looking out。 Behind him in the
shadow； the fire was still snapping in the little stove where
he had cooked his breakfast。 There was a comforting smell of
bacon and venison in the room； the tea…pot stood on the table
half…empty。 Here in the corner were his rifle and some of his
traps。 On the wall hung his snowshoes。 Under the bunk was a
pile of skins。 Half…open on the bench lay the book that he had
been reading the evening before； while the snow was falling。 It
was a book of veritable fairy…tales； which told how men had made
their way in the world； and achieved great fortunes； and won
success； by toiling hard at first； and then by trading and
bargaining and getting ahead of other men。
〃Well；〃 said Luke； to himself； as he stood at the door； 〃I
could do that too。 Without doubt I also am one of the men who
can do things。 They did not work any harder than I do。 But
they got better pay。 I am twenty…five。 For ten years I have
worked hard； and what have I got for it？ This！〃
He stepped out into the morning； alert and vigorous；
deep…chested and straight…hipped。 The strength of the hills
had gone into him； and his eyes were bright with health。 His
kingdom was spread before him。 There along the River of
Meadows were the haunts of the moose and the caribou where he
hunted in the fall； and yonder on the burnt hills around the
great lake were the places where he watched for the bears； and
up beside the River of Rocks ran his line of traps； swinging back
by secret ways to many a nameless pond and hidden
beaver…meadow； and all along the streams； when the ice went
out in the spring； the great trout would be leaping in rapid
and pool。 Among the peaks and valleys of that forest…clad
kingdom he could find his way as easily as a merchant walks
from his house to his office。 The secrets of bird and beast
were known to him； every season of the year brought him its
own tribute； the woods were his domain； vast； inexhaustible；
free。
Here was his home； his cabin that he had built with his
own hands。 The roof was tight； the walls were well chinked
with moss。 It was snug and warm。 But smallhow pitifully
small it looked to…dayand how lonely！
H