atiently waiting our return. The old
man stared at me while I spoke; he appeared to be in a kind of stupor,
and made no reply: and at last, leaving him still sitting on the ground,
I went into the wood to look for Rima.

As I walked there, occasionally stopping to peer into some shadowy glade
or opening, and to listen, I was tempted again and again to call the
name of her I sought aloud; and still the fear that by so doing I might
bring some hidden danger on myself, perhaps on her, made me silent. A
strange melancholy rested on the forest, a quietude seldom broken by a
distant bird's cry. How, I asked myself, should I ever find her in that
wide forest while I moved about in that silent, cautious way? My only
hope was that she would find me. It occurred to me that the most likely
place to seek her would be some of the old haunts known to us both,
where we had talked together. I thought first of the mora tree, where
she had hidden herself from me, and thither I directed my steps. About
this tree, and within its shade, I lingered for upwards of an hour; and,
finally, casting my eyes up into the great dim cloud of green and purple
leaves, I softly called: "Rima, Rima, if you have seen me, and have
concealed yourself from me in your hiding-place, in mercy answer me--in
mercy come down to me now!" But Rima answered not, nor threw down
any red glowing leaves to mock me: only the wind, high up, whispered
something low and sorrowful in the foliage; and turning, I wandered away
at random into the deeper shadows.

By and by I was startled by the long, piercing cry of a wildfowl,
sounding strangely loud in the silence; and no sooner was the air still
again than it struck me that no bird had uttered that cry. The Indian
is a good mimic of animal voices, but practice had made me able to
distinguish the true from the false bird-note. For a minute or so I
stood still, at a loss what to do, then moved on again with greater
caution, scarcely breathing, straining my sight to pierce the shadowy
depths. All at once I gave a great start, for directly before me, on the
projecting root in the deeper shade of a tree, sat a dark, motionless
human form. I stood still, watching it for some time, not yet knowing
that it had seen me, when all doubts were put to flight by the form
rising and deliberately advancing--a naked Indian with a zabatana in
his hand. As he came up out of the deeper shade I recognized Piake, the
surly elder brother of my frie