His eyes went happily among these tokens of the glad time of the year, but
while he noted them and the bursting buds of the aspen, reddish-brown, his
mind was open to all that middle register of calls which the human ear may
notice in wild places. Far above his scale were shrilling murmurs of birds
and insects, and beneath it ran those ground noises that the rabbit, for
instance, understands so well; but between these overtones and undertones
he heard the scream of the hawk, spiraling down in huge circles, and the
rapid call of a grouse, far off, and the drone of insects about his feet,
or darting suddenly upon his brain and away again. He heard these things by
the grace of the wind, which sometimes blew them about him in a chorus, and
again shut off all except that lonely calling of the grouse, and often
whisked away every murmur and left Gregg, in the center of a wide hush with
only the creak of the pack-saddle and the click of the burro's accurate
feet among the rocks.
At such times he gave his full attention to the trail, and he read it as
one might turn the pages of a book.
Pages:
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31