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The sun had already disappeared behind the sharp pointed dark peaks of the mountains. It was nearly night. As the light grew dim, the far stretching prairie began to be hidden. By a stream in a valley where grew large and small trees were the lodges of a great camp. For a long distance up and down the river rose the smokes of many fires.,"Bah!" he says, impatiently, rising from the ground and turning away. Her answer has frozen him again, has dried up the momentary desire for her approbation above all others that only a minute ago had agitated his breast.,"A—student?" says Mona, in a degree puzzled.,"I have travelled over much country," said the wolf; "I know all the prairies, the valleys, and the mountains; but I have never seen the Sun's home. But wait a moment. I know a person who is very wise, and who may be able to tell you the road. Ask the bear.",She has turned away from him, grieved and frightened by his vehemence, and, having plucked a leaf from the hedge near her, is trifling absently with it as it lies upon her little trembling palm.,"No, it will not shock me," returns Mona, quietly; whereupon he sits down, and Biddy puts a basin on the table, and Mona, with trembling fingers, takes a scissors, and cuts away the shirt-sleeve from his wounded arm. Then she bathes it.,"I am so glad you have come, darling," says little Dorothy, taking off her hat, and laying it on a chair near her.,She has crossed the rustic bridge that leads into the Moore plantations, in hot pursuit of a young turkey that is evidently filled with a base determination to spend his Sunday out.,To her there is nothing strange or new, either in the hour or the place. Often does she come here in the moonlight with her faithful attendant and her two dogs, to sit and dream away a long sweet hour brimful of purest joy, whilst drinking in the plaintive charm that Nature as a rule flings over her choicest paintings.,For a little while they are silent. He is thinking of Mona; she is wrapped in remembrance of all that has just passed. Presently, looking at her, he discovers she is crying,—bitterly, though quietly. The reaction has set in, and the tears are running quickly down her cheeks.,"He isn't!" says Geoffrey, panting "I have him at last!" Whereupon he emerges from a wilderness of ferns, drawing after him and holding up triumphantly to the light the wandering bird, that looks more dead than alive, with all its feathers drooping, and its breath coming in angry cries.,"Where are we now?" says Geoffrey, suddenly, stopping and facing "the boy.".