ord is upon me, and He hath anointed me to blow the
trumpet in the wilderness, and sound an alarm in the forest; for behold
the tribes of the heathen are round about your doors, and a devouring
flame followeth after them!"

II

"That's Johnny Appleseed," said Skenedonk, turning in his saddle.

"What is Johnny Appleseed?"

"He is a man that God has touched," said Skenedonk, using the aboriginal
phrase that signified a man clouded in mind.

God had hidden him, too. I could see no one. The voice echo still went
off among the trees.

"Where is he?"

"Maybe one side, maybe the other."

"Does he never show himself?"

"Oh, yes," Skenedonk said. "He goes to all the settlements. I have often
seen him when I was hunting on these grounds. He came to our camp. He
loves to sleep outdoors better than in a cabin."

"Why does he shout at us like a prophet?"

"To warn us that Indians are on the warpath."

"He might have thought we were on the warpath ourselves."

"Johnny Appleseed knows Shawanoes and Tecumseh's men."

The trees, lichened on their north sides, massed rank behind rank
without betraying any face in their glooms. The Ohio and Indiana forests
had a nameless quality. They might have been called home-forests, such
invitations issued from them to man seeking a spot of his own. Nor can
I make clear what this invitation was. It produced thoughts different
from those that men were conscious of in the rugged northwest.

"I think myself," said Skenedonk, as we moved farther from the invisible
voice, "that he is under a vow. But nobody told me that."

"Why do you think so?"

"He plants orchards in every fine open spot; or clears the land for
planting where he thinks the soil is right."

"Don't other men plant orchards?"

"No. They have not time, or seed. They plant bread. He does nothing but
plant orchards."

"He must have a great many."

"They are not for himself. The apples are for any one who may pass by
when they are ripe. He wants to give apples to everybody. Animals often
nibble the bark, or break down his young trees. It takes long for them
to grow. But he keeps on planting."

"If other men have no seeds to plant, how does he get them?"

"He makes journeys to the old settlements, where many orchards have
grown, and brings the seeds from ciderpresses. He carries them from
Pennsylvania on his back, in leather bags, a bag for each kind of seed."

"Doesn't he ever sell them?"

"Not often. J