flames had died down, but he let the coals smoulder on, and, hundreds of
yards away, he could still see their smoke. Now, he sought the softest
parts of the earth and trod there deliberately, leaving many footprints.
Again he cut little chips from the trees as he passed, but never ceased
his swift and silent journey to the south. The hours fled by, and a dark
shade appeared in the east. It deepened into dusk, and spread steadily
toward the zenith. The sun, a golden ball, sank behind a hill in the
west, and then the shiftless one stopped.

He ascended a low hill again, and took a long scrutinizing look around the
whole horizon. But his gaze was not apprehensive. On the contrary, it was
expectant, and his face seemed to show a slight disappointment when the
wilderness merely presented its wonted aspect. Then he built another fire,
not choosing a secluded glade, but the top of the hill, the most exposed
spot that he could find, and, after he had eaten his supper, he sat beside
it, the expectant air still on his face.

Nothing came. But the shiftless one sat long. He raked up dead leaves of
last year's winter and made a pillow, against which he reclined
luxuriously. Shif'less Sol was one who drew mental and physical comfort
from every favoring circumstance, and the leaves felt very soft to his
head and shoulders. He was not in the least lonesome, although the night
had fully come, and heavy darkness lay like a black robe over the forest.
He stretched out his moccasined toes to the fire, closed his eyes for a
moment or two, and a dreamy look of satisfaction rested on his face. It
seemed to the shiftless one that he lay in the very lap of luxury, in the
very best of worlds.

But when he opened his eyes again he continued to watch the forest, or
rather he watched with his ears now, as he lay close to the earth, and his