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The mere road might have shamed him into manlier reflections。 It was one of the forest highways of the majestic bison opened ages before into what must have been to them Nature's most gorgeous kingdom； her fairest； most magical Babylon： with hanging gardens of verdure everywhere swung from the tree…domes to the ground； with the earth one vast rolling garden of softest verdure and crystal waters： an ancient Babylon of the Western woods； most alluring and in the end most fatal to the luxurious； wantoning wild creatures； which know no sin and are never found wanting。
This old forest street of theirs； so broad； so roomy； so arched with hoary trees； so silent now and filled with the pity and pathos of their ruinit may not after all have been marked out by them。 But ages before they had ever led their sluggish armies eastward to the Mississippi and； crossing； had shaken its bright drops from their shaggy low…hung necks on the eastern bankages before this； while the sun of human history was yet silvering the dawn of the worldbefore Job's sheep lay sick in the land of Uz before a lion had lain down to dream in the jungle where Babylon was to arise and to become a name；this old； old； old high road may have been a footpath of the awful mastodon； who had torn his terrible way through the tangled； twisted； gnarled and rooted fastnesses of the wilderness as lightly as a wild young Cyclone out of the South tears his way through the ribboned corn。
Ay； for ages the mastodon had trodden this dust。 And； ay； for ages later the bison。 And； ay； for ages a people； over whose vanished towns and forts and graves had grown the trees of a thousand years； holding in the mighty claws of their roots the dust of those long； long secrets。 And for centuries later still along this path had crept or rushed or fled the Indians： now coming from over the moon…loved； fragrant； passionate Southern mountains； now from the sad frozen forests and steely marges of the Lakes： both eager for the chase。 For into this high road of the mastodon and the bison smaller pathways entered from each side； as lesser watercourses run into a river： the avenues of the round…horned elk； narrow； yet broad enough for the tossing of his lordly antlers； the trails of the countless migrating shuffling bear； the slender woodland alleys along which buck and doe and fawn had sought the springs or crept tenderly from their breeding coverts or fled like shadows in the race for life； the devious wolf…runs of the maddened packs as they had sprung to the kill； the threadlike passages of the stealthy fox； the tiny trickle of the squirrel； crossing； recrossing； without number； and ever close beside all these； unseen； the grass…path or the tree…path of the cougar。 Ay； both eager for the chase at first and then more eager for each other's death for the sake of the whole chase： so that this immemorial game…trace had become a war…patha long dim forest street alive with the advance and retreat of plume…bearing； vermilion…painted armies； and its rich black dust； on which hereand there a few scars of sunlight now lay like stillest thinnest yellow leaves； had been dyed from end to end with the red of the heart。
And last of all into this ancient woodland street of war one day there had stepped a strange new…comerthe Anglo…Saxon。 Fairhaired； blue…eyed； always a lover of Land and of Woman and therefore of Home； in whose blood beat the conquest of many a wilderness before thisthe wilderness of Britain； the wilderness of Normandy； the wildernesses of the Black； of the Hercinian forest； the wilderness of the frosted marshes of the Elbe and the Rhine and of the North Sea's wildest wandering foam and fury。
Here white lover and red lover had metand fought： with the same high spirit and overstrung will； scorn of danger； greed of pain； the same vehemence of hatred and excess of revenge； the same ideal of a hero as a young man who stands in the thick of carnage calm and unconscious of his wounds or rushes gladly to any poetic beauty of death that is terrible and sublime。 And already the red lover was gone and the fair…haired lover stood the quiet owner of the road； the last of all its long train of conquerors brute and humanwith his cabin near by； his wife smiling beside the spinning…wheel； his baby crowing on the threshold。 History was thicker here than along the Appian Way and it might well have stirred O'Bannon； but he rode shamblingly on； un…touched； unmindful。 At every bend his eye quickly swept along the stretch of road to the next turn； for every man carried the eye of an eagle in his head in those days。
At one point he pulled his horse up violently。 A large buckeye tree stood on the roadside a hundred yards ahead。 Its large thick leaves already full at this season； drew around the trunk a seamless robe of darkest green。 But a single slight rent had been made on one side as though a bough bad been lately broken off to form an aperture commanding a view of the road； and through this aperture he could see something black within…as black as a crow's wing。
O'Bannon sent his horse forward in the slowest walk： it was unshod； the stroke of its hoofs was muffled by the dust； and he had approached quite close； remaining himself unobserved； before he recognized the school…master。
He was reclining against the trunk； his hat off； his eyes closed； in the heavy shadows he looked white and sick and weak and troubled。 Plainly he was buried deep in his own thoughts。 If he had broken off those low boughs in order that he might obtain a view of the road； he had forgotten his own purpose； if he had walked all the way out to this spot and was waiting； his vigilance had grown lax； his aim slipped from him。
Perhaps before his eyes the historic vision of the road had risen： that crowded pageant； brute and human； all whose red passions； burning rights and burning wrongs； frenzied fightings and awful deaths had left but the sun…scarred dust； the silence of the woods clothing itself in green。 And from this panoramic survey it may have come to him to feel the shortness of the day of his own life； the pitifulness of its earthly contentions； and above everything else the sadness of the necessity laid upon him to come down to the level of the cougar and the wolf。
But as O'Bannon struck his horse and would have passed on； he sprang up quickly enough and walked out into the middle of the road。 When the horse's head was near he quietly took hold of the reins and throwing his weight slightly forward； brought it to a stop。
〃Let go！〃 exclaimed O'Bannon； furious and threatening。
He did let go； and stepping backward three paces； he threw off his coat and waistcoat and tossed them aside to the green bushes： the action was a pathetic mark of his lifelong habit of economy in clothes： a coat must under all circumstances be cared for。 He tore off his neckcloth so that his high shirt collar fell away from his neck； showing the purple scar of his wound； and he girt his trousers in about his waist； as a laboring man will trim himself for neat； quick； violent work。 Then with a long stride he came round to the side of the horse's head； laid his hand on its neck and looked O'Bannon in the eyes：
〃At