"I would not." "If, during the night, a storm should pass over the forest with thunder deafening you and lightning flashing close to your eyes and trees falling everywhere, you would fear for your life and that would be natural and wise; but would you come again?" "I would." "If it were winter and the forest were bowed deep with ice and snow and you were alone in it, having lost your way, would you cry enough? Would you hunt for a fireside and never return?" "I would not." "You can stand cold and hunger and danger and fatigue; can you be patient and can you be persevering?" "I can." "Look long and not find what you look for and still not give up?" "I can." There was silence for a little while: the mood of the hunter seemed to soften: "Do you know where you are, Webster?" "I do not know where I am." "You did not know then, that this is the wilderness of your forefathers--the Kentucky pioneers. You have wandered back to it." "I did not know." "Have you read their great story?" "Not much of it." "Are you beginning to realise what it means to be sprung from such men and women?" "I cannot say." "But you want to do great things?" "If I loved them." The hunter stood up and gathered his belongings together. His questions had become more kind as though he were satisfied. He struck Webster on his shoulder. "_Come_," he said, as with high trust, "_I will show you the Kentucky warbler._" He looked around and his eyes fell upon the forest brook. He walked over to it, to discover in what direction it ran and beckoned. "We'll follow this stream up: the spring may not be far away." He glanced at the tree-tops: "It is nearly noon: the bird will come to the spring to drink and to bathe." Webster followed the hunter as he threaded his way through the forest toward the source of the brook. Not many yards off his guide turned: "There is the spring," he said, pointing to a green bank out of which bubbled the cool current. "Let us sit here. Make no movement and make no noise." How tense the stillness! They waited and listened. Finally the hunter spoke in an undertone: "Did you hear that?" Away off in the forest Webster heard the song of a bird. Presently it came nearer. Now it was nearer still. It sounded at last within the thicket just above the spring, clear, sweet, bold, emphatic notes distinctly repeated at short intervals. And then-- _There he was--the Kentucky Warbler!_