His eyes were wide open, but no part of his body stirred. He had
acquired the gift of infinite patience, and with it the difficult
physical art of remaining absolutely motionless for a long time. So
thorough was his mastery over himself that the small wild game began
to believe by and by that he was not alive. Birds sang freely over his
head and the hare hopped through the undergrowth. Yet the hunter saw
everything and his very stillness enabled him to listen with all the
more acuteness.

The sun which had arisen great and brilliant, remained so, flooding
the world with golden lights and making it wonderfully alluring to
Willet, whose eyes never grew weary of the forest's varying shades and
aspects. They were all peaceful now, but he had no illusions. He knew
that the hostile force would send out many hunters. So many men must
have much game and presently they would be prowling through the woods,
seeking deer and bear. The chief danger came from them.

The hours passed and noon arrived. Willet had not stirred. He did
not sleep, but he rested nevertheless. His great body was relaxed
thoroughly, and strength, after weariness, flowed back into his veins.
Presently his head moved forward a little and his attitude grew more
intent. A slight sound that was not a part of the wilderness had come
to him. It was very faint, few would have noticed it, but he knew it
was the report of a rifle. He knew also that it was not a shot fired
in battle. The hunters, as he had surmised, were abroad, and they had
started up a deer or a bear.

But Willet did not stir nor did his eyelids flicker. He was used to
the proximity of foes, and the distant report did not cause his heart
to miss a single beat. Instead, he felt a sort of dry amusement that