a comparatively fresh "burn" of last autumn, and the ash was still soft
under Baree's feet. Straight through this black region ran the creek,
and over it hung a blue sky in which the sun was shining. It was quite
inviting to Baree. The fox, the wolf, the moose, and the caribou would
have turned back from the edge of this dead country. In another year it
would be good hunting ground, but now it was lifeless. Even the owls
would have found nothing to eat out there.

It was the blue sky and the sun and the softness of the earth under his
feet that lured Baree. It was pleasant to travel in after his painful
experiences in the forest. He continued to follow the stream, though
there was now little possibility of his finding anything to eat. The
water had become sluggish and dark. The channel was choked with charred
debris that had fallen into it when the forest had burned, and its
shores were soft and muddy. After a time, when Baree stopped and looked
about him, he could no longer see the green timber he had left. He was
alone in that desolate wilderness of charred tree corpses. It was as
still as death, too. Not the chirp of a bird broke the silence. In the
soft ash he could not hear the fall of his own feet. But he was not
frightened. There was the assurance of safety here.

If he could only find something to eat! That was the master thought
that possessed Baree. Instinct had not yet impressed upon him that this
which he saw all about him was starvation. He went on, seeking
hopefully for food. But at last, as the hours passed, hope began to die
in him. The sun sank westward. The sky grew less blue; a low wind began
to ride over the tops of the stubs, and now and then one of them fell
with a startling crash.

Baree could go no farther. An hour before dusk he lay down in the open,