The Free Rangers | Page 2

being Nature had kindled the
true fire of poetry, and now his pleasure was so keen and sharp that a

throb of emotion stirred in his throat. It was a grand country and, if
reserved for any one, it must be reserved for his race and his people.
Shif'less Sol was resolved upon that purpose and to it he was ready to
devote body and life.
Yet the wilderness seemed to tell only of peace. The low song of the
leaves was soothing and all innocence. The shiftless one was far
beyond the farthest outpost of his kind, beyond the broad yellow
current of the Mississippi, deep in the heart of the primeval forest. He
might travel full three hundred miles to the eastward and find no white
cabin, while to westward his own kind were almost a world away. On
all sides stretched the vast maze of forest and river, through which
roamed only wild animals and wilder man.
Shif'less Sol, from his post on the hill, examined the whole circle of the
forest long and carefully. He seemed intent upon some unusual object.
It was shown in the concentration of his look and the thoughtful pucker
of his forehead. It was not game, because in a glade to windward, at the
foot of the hill, five buffaloes grazed undisturbed and now and then
uttered short, panting grunts to show their satisfaction. Presently a
splendid stag, walking through the woods as if he were sole proprietor,
scented the strange human odor, and threw up his head in alarm. But
the figure on the hill, the like of which the deer had never seen before,
did not stir or take notice, and His Lordship the Stag raised his head
higher to see. The figure still did not stir, and, his alarm dying, the stag
walked disdainfully away among the trees.
Birds, the scarlet tanager, the blue bird, the cat bird, the jay and others
of their kin settled on the trees near the young man with the yellow hair,
and gazed at him with curiosity and without fear. A rabbit peeped up
now and then, but beyond the new presence the wilderness was
undisturbed, and it became obvious to the animal tribe that the stranger
meant no harm. Nor did the shiftless one himself discern any alien note.
The sky, a solid curve of blue, bore nowhere a trace of smoke. It was
undarkened and unstained, the same lonely brightness that had dawned
every morning for untold thousands of years.
Shif'less Sol showed no disappointment. Again all seemed to be

happening as he wished. Presently he left the hill and, face toward the
south, began to walk swiftly and silently down the rows of trees. There
was but little undergrowth, nothing to check his speed, and he strode on
and on. After a while he came to a brook running through low soft soil
and then he did a strange thing, the very act that a white man travelling
through the dangerous forest would have avoided. He planted one foot
in the yielding soil near the water's edge, and then stepping across,
planted the other in exactly the same way on the far side.
When another yard brought him to hard ground he stopped and looked
back with satisfaction. On either side of the brook remained the firm
deep impression of a human foot, of a white foot, the toes being turned
outward. No wilderness rover could mistake it, and yet it was hundreds
of miles to the nearest settlement of Shif'less Sol's kind.
He took another look at the footsteps, smiled again and resumed his
journey. The character of the country did not change. Still the low
rolling hills, still the splendid forests of oak and elm, beech, maple and
hickory, and of all their noble kin, still the little brooks of clear water,
still the deer and the buffalo, grazing in the glades, and taking but little
notice of the strange human figure as it passed. Presently, the shiftless
one stopped again and he did another thing, yet stranger than the
pressing-in of the foot-prints beside the little stream. He drew the
hatchet from his belt and cut a chip out of the bark of a hickory. A
hundred yards further on he did the same thing, and, at three hundred
yards or so, he cut the chip for the third time. He looked well at the
marks, saw that they were clear, distinct and unmistakable, and then the
peculiar little smile of satisfaction would pass again over his face.
But these stops were only momentary. Save for them he never ceased
his rapid course, and always it led straight toward the south. When the
sun was squarely overhead, pouring down a flood of golden beams, he
paused in the