76 BEYOND THE PASTURE BARS 



the cold, the trackless miles alive? Did they not 

 pursue and fight me, showing their savage fangs 

 on my trail as they have showed them on every 

 human trail since human feet first dared to break 

 a track into the wilderness? 



Not even a chickadee was heard in the silence of 

 the woods; I did not see a single animal track 

 in the new snow. Was it then an empty, fruit- 

 less walk? No, for I went out to feel things, as 

 well as to see things. I went out to meet the 

 woods, to breast the winds, to dare the chill, to 

 subdue the long hard distances of swamp and 

 pasture. I went out just to be out, to be afield, 

 to beat the hot blood into my feet on the frozen 

 ground; to stand off the cold; to catch a breath, 

 as I topped a hill, out of the very teeth of the bit- 

 ing wind. 



I took no gun, because every creature out-of- 

 doors was on my side in this fight against the 

 cold. I took no dog; I wanted no companion; I 

 must fight it out alone alone against the wild- 

 ness out of doors, against the mighty forces of 

 the North for the victory of life, to defy, to live, 

 to glow with the mighty joy of life ! 



There are other tempers, other moods of 

 the winter woods that answer to feelings and 



