Rather it was the tone in which Dan had spoken. It was perfectly cool, perfectly self-contained.
"The one right close is a chipmunk. I don't know what the others are; no one ever does know. Perhaps ground squirrels, or rabbits, or birds, and maybe even one of those harmless old black bears who is curious about the house. The bears have more curiosity than they can well carry around, and they say they 'll sometimes come up and put their front feet on a window sill of a house, and peer through the window. They must think men are the craziest things! And of course it might be a coyote—and a mad one at that. I guess I told you that they 're subject to rabies at this time of year. I 'll confess I'd rather have it be anything else. And tell me—can you smell anything—"
"Good Lord, Lennox! I can smell all kinds of things."
"I'm glad. Some men can't. No one can enjoy the woods if he can't smell. Part of the smells are of flowers, and part of balsam, and God only knows what the others are. They are just the wilderness—"
Dan could not only perceive the smells and sounds, but he felt that they were leaving an imprint on the very fiber of his soul. He
