The wilderness uses human material up...
A breeze from the north sprang up, and it turned strangely
chilly I started to talk to Peter, the loneliness seemed
so oppressive. I told him that he should have a walk, a
real walk, as soon as we had crossed the creek. I told
him we were on the homeward half--that I had a bag of
oats in the box, and that my wife would have a pail of
water ready... And Peter trotted along.
Something loomed up in front. Dark and sinister it looked.
Still there was enough light to recognize even that which
I did not know. A large bluff of poplars rustled, the wind
soughing through the stems with a wailing note. The brush
grew higher to the right. I suddenly noticed that I was
driving along a broken-down fence between the brush and
myself. The brush became a grove of boles which next
seemed to shoot up to the full height of the bluff. Then,
unexpectedly, startlingly, a vista opened. Between the
silent grove to the south and the large; whispering,
wailing bluff to the north there stood in a little clearing
a snow white log house, uncannily white in the paling
moonlight. I could still distinctly see that its upper
windows were nailed shut with boards--and yes, its lower
ones, too.
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