bushes, the trees would grow up once more, the cabin would rot and its
roof fall, and perhaps the bear or the panther would find a cozy lair
among its timbers.

Now the strange intruders had come again. The fox, creeping to the edge of
the clearing, saw with his needlelike eyes a red gleam through the chinks
of the cabin. The red gleam smote him with terror, and he slunk away. The
wolf, the rabbit, and the deer came; they, too, saw the red gleam, and
fled, with the same terror striking at their hearts. All, after the single
look, sank back into the shadows, and the forest was silent and deserted.
Paul and Henry, as they slept, were guarded by a single gleam of fire from
all enemies save human kind.

But as the night thickened there had been a whirring in the air not far
away. An hour earlier the twilight had been deepened by something that
looked like a great cloud coming before the sun. It was a cloud that moved
swiftly, and it was made of a myriad of motes, closely blended. It
resolved itself soon into a vast flock of wild pigeons, millions and
millions flying southward to escape the coming winter.

Presently they settled down upon the forest for the night, and all the
trees were filled with the chattering multitude. Often the bough bent
almost to the ground beneath the weight of birds, clustered so thick that
they could scarcely find a footing. The fox and the wolf that had looked
at the lone cabin came back now to seek, an easier prey.

Henry Ware slept until far after midnight, and then he awoke easily,
without jerk or start. The fire had burned down, and a deep bed of coals
lay on the hearth. Paul still slept, and when Henry touched him he found
that he had ceased to perspire. No trace of the fever was left. Yet he