Birds of River, Forest and Sky 
7 
out into a low, exquisite song of happiness that could but have celebrated 
the escape of his loved ones. 
Beyond the home of the Wrens we came to the best part of "Uncle’s 
Woods," a stand of giant cedar. “The old man says he comes to walk 
among them every Sunday," my friend said gently. And no wonder, 
for cut off as they are from all but devout lovers of the forest, their 
ways are ways of quietness and in their paths are peace. Well might 
the old man, used to listening low to the voice of nature, stand reverently 
at the foot of one of these giant cedars that, with straight clean bole 
towering skyward confronts one with its challenge: "The place whereon 
thou standest is holy ground." 
As we turned away from the noble brotherhood in silence and fol¬ 
lowed the narrow trail back toward the edge of the forest, the voices 
of the woodlanders were stilled, for the dark organ pipes stood out 
against the quiet light of the yellow sunset afterglow. 
AAA 
