The Free Rangers | Page 3

shade of a mighty oak, and took food from his belt. He
might have eaten there in silence and obscurity, but once more the
shiftless one showed a singular lack of caution and woodcraft. He drew
together dry sticks, ignited a fire with flint and steel, and cooked deer
meat over it. He let the fire burn high, and a thin column of dark smoke

rose far up into the blue. Any savage, roaming the wilderness, might
see it, but the shiftless one was reckless. He let the fire burn on, after
his food was cooked, while the column of smoke grew thicker and
mounted higher, and ate the savory steaks, lying comfortably between
two upthrust roots. Now and then he uttered a little sigh of satisfaction,
because he had travelled far and hard, and he was hungry. Food meant
new strength.
But he was not as reckless as he seemed. Nothing that passed in the
forest within the range of eyesight escaped his notice. He heard the leaf,
when it fell close by, and the light tread of a deer passing. He remained
a full hour between the roots, a long time for one who might have a
purpose, and, after he rose, he did not scatter the fire and trample upon
the brands after the wilderness custom when one was ready to depart.
The 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
hearing, at all times, was so acute that it seemed to border upon instinct
or divination. But no sound save the usual ones of the forest and the
night came to him, and he remained quite still, thinking.
Shif'less Sol Hyde was in an exalted mood, and the flickering firelight
showed a face refined and ennobled by a great purpose. Leading a life
that made him think little of hardship and danger he thought nothing at
all of them now, but he felt instead a great buoyancy, and a hope
equally great.
He lay awake a full three hours after the dark had come, and he rose
only twice from his reclining position, each time merely to replenish
the fire which remained a red core in the circling blackness. Always he
was listening and always he heard nothing but the usual sounds of the
forest and the night. The darkness grew denser and heavier, but after a
while it began to thin and lighten. The sky became clear, and the great
stars swam in the dusky blue. Then Shif'less Sol fell asleep, head on the
leaves, feet to the fire, and slept soundly all through the night.
He was up at dawn, cooked his breakfast, and then, after another long
and searching examination of the surrounding forest, departed, leaving
the coals of the fire to smoulder, and tell as they might that some one
had passed.