The great silence of the
dying day had fallen upon the world and held us fast.
"Listen," he said, in a low tone, pointing to the hills. "Can't you
hear them breathe?" And, looking at their curving shoulders, I fancied I
could see them slowly heaving as if in heavy sleep, and I was quite sure
I could hear them breathe. I was under the spell of his voice and his
eyes, and nature was all living to me then.
We rode back to the Stopping Place in silence, except for a word of mine
now and then which he heeded not; and, with hardly a good night, he
left me at the door. I turned away feeling as if I had been in a strange
country and among strange people.
How would he do with the Swan Creek folk? Could he make them see the
hills breathe? Would they feel as I felt under his voice and eyes? What
a curious mixture he was! I was doubtful about his first Sunday, and was
surprised to find all my indifference as to his success or failure gone.
It was a pity about the baseball match. I would speak to some of the men
about it to-morrow.
Hi might be disappointed in his appearance, but, as I turned into my
shack and thought over my last two hours with The Pilot and how he had
"got" old Latour and myself, I began to think that Hi might be mistaken
in his measure of The Pilot.
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