EW knew the way to the little house 

 in the rocks where the Little Brother 

 to the Bear lived. It was miles away from 

 every other house but one, in the heart of 

 the big still woods. You had to leave the 

 highway where it dipped into a cool dark 

 hollow among the pines, and follow a lonely 

 old road that the wood-choppers sometimes 

 used in winter, and that led you, if you fol- 

 lowed it far enough, to a tumble-down old 

 mill on another cross-road, where the brook 

 chattered and laughed all day long at the 

 rusty wheel, and the phcebe built unmolested 



