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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Flaming Forest"

He no longer had to hold his breath to
hear the low moaning in the wind, and where there had been smoke-
gloom before there were now black clouds rolling and twisting up
over the tops of the north and eastern forests, as if mighty
breaths were playing with them from behind.
David thrust the big end of the caribou horn between two of the
white-birch bars, but before he had put his weight to the lever he
heard a great voice coming round the end of the chateau, and it
was calling for Andre, the Broken Man. In a moment it was followed
by Black Roger Audemard, who ran under the window and faced the
lightning-struck spruce as he shouted Andre's name again.
Suddenly David called down to him, and Black Roger turned and
looked up through the smoke-gloom, his head bare, his arms naked,
and his eyes gleaming wildly as he listened.
"He went that way twenty minutes ago," David shouted. "He
disappeared into the forest where you see the dead spruce yonder.
And he was crying, Black Roger--he was crying like a child."
If there had been other words to finish, Black Roger would not
have heard them. He was running toward the old spruce, and David
saw him disappear where the Broken Man had gone.


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