He accepted these voices out of the distance as definite and real. It could not be long until he saw the hunter, the Onondaga and the young Englishman once more. His lonely life caused him, despite himself, to lend a greater belief to signs and omens. Tayoga was right when he peopled the air with spirits, and most of the spirits on that island must be good spirits, since all things, except escape, had been made easy for him, house, clothes, food and safety. The day itself was singularly crisp and bright, inciting to further cheerfulness. It was also the coldest he had yet felt on the island, having a northern tang that stirred his blood. He could shut his eyes and see the great forests, not in winter, but as they were in autumn, glowing in many colors, and with an air that was the very breath of life. The sea also sang a pleasant song as it rolled in and broke on the rocks, and Robert, looking around at his island, felt that he could have fared far worse. Rifle on shoulder he went off for a long and brisk walk, and his steps unconsciously took him, as they often did, toward the high hill in the center of the island, a crest that he used as a lookout. On his way he passed his friend, the old bull, grazing in a meadow, and, watching his herd, like the faithful guardian he was. Robert called to him cheerfully. The big fellow looked up, shook his horns, not in hostile fashion but in the manner of comrade saluting comrade, and then went back, with a whole and confident heart, to his task of nipping the grass. Robert was pleased. It was certain that the bull no longer regarded him with either fear or apprehension, and he wanted to be liked. It was nearly noon when he reached his summit, and as he was warm from exercise he sat down on a rock, staying there a long time and scouring the horizon now and then through the glasses. The sea was a circle of blazing blue, and the light wind sang from the southwest. He had brought food with him and in the middle of the day he ate it. With nothing in particular to do he thought he would spend the afternoon there, and, making himself comfortable, he waited, still taking occasional glances through the glasses. While he sat, idling more than anything else, his mind became occupied with Tayoga's theory of spirits in the air--less a theory however than the religious belief of the Indians. He wanted to believe that Tayoga was right, and his imagination was so vivid and intense that what he wished to believe he usually ended by believing. He shut his eyes and tested his power of evocation. He knew that he could create feeling in any part of his body merely by concentrating his mind upon that particular part of it and by continuing to think of it. Physical sensation even came from will. So he would imagine that he heard spirits in the air all about him, not anything weird or hostile, but just kindly people of the clouds and winds, such as those created by the old Greeks.