“When that time shall have arrived where shall we go to find the woods, the wild things, the old forests? —S. H. HAMMOND Tupper dozed as the train rumbled northward. The trip up the Hudson had gone well. Nobody except the waiter had taken notice of him. He’d got a bit of dinner on the boat, as much as he could afford. His pockets were stuffed with buttered rolls when he left the table, not knowing how long it might be till he could afford to fill his stomach again. Tupper nodded off thinking of ...breakfasts he’d had the winter before when he was logging near Long Lake. Stacks of wheat cakes, bushels of eggs, corn bread, fried hams, blackened steaks, and rivers of coffee had his stomach growling. Tupper slipped into a dream. He was in the longhouse of his old village. He saw the council fire but it was just ashes. All was in silence. He kicked at the ash and watched as a gray cloud rose. The ashes spread as he watched. Snaky gray tendrils groped in the longhouse. They seemed to almost have life and will, fanning out, blotting the contours of the lodge.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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