CHAPTER V 



THE WANDERER 



" Moody-mad and desperate stags." 



Henry VI, 



The summer of his regained freedom was the 

 warmest and most beautiful of all the yearling's 

 life. No other gave such soft, mild days, such 

 calm, bright nights. Nature herself worked for her 

 well-being, and bade the elements be kind. 



He wandered always, even in regions where food 

 was plentiful and a wealth of tempting bushes 

 lay to a curling tongue. Ever at the back of his 

 mind was the thought of the lagoon and the island. 

 If he could find the island, there, surely, would be 

 safety and peace. 



Dawdling down a newly-made moose trail one 

 early morning, he passed some whitened bones 

 lying at the base of a shaft of granite. He looked 

 at them idly, connecting them not at all with his 

 enemies of the trading-post. And yet the bleached 



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