Everywhere were evidences that spring was near at hand. Many trees and shrubs were showing the delicate gray green of coming buds; and now and then the fragrance of the wild arbutus was in the air. Birds were busy; wood-thrushes and pewees were calling; now and then a golden-throated warbler sounded his clear note. The air was soft and warm for the season, and Faith was so happy in the thought of being really on her way home that she forgot for a time that Mr. Phelps had said that no American settler’s home in the Wilderness could be safe until Fort Ticonderoga was held by American soldiers.
“It’s lovely to be going home, isn’t it, father?” she said; and Mr. Carew smiled down at his little daughter, and agreed with her that nothing better could be desired.
“We shall see with glad surprise Lilies spring, and verdure rise; And soon, amidst the wilds, we’ll hear Murmuring waters falling clear,”—
sang Mr. Carew softly.
“Oh, that is mother’s song,” exclaimed Faith. “It just means home, doesn’t it?” And again her father was quite ready to agree.
They walked slowly up the rocky trail and when they reached the top of the first ridge they stopped to rest and eat the excellent lunch that Aunt Prissy had prepared for them. But Faith declared that she was not tired. It seemed to her that she could run all the way if her father would only permit. And when in the early afternoon she first heard the sound of the mill-stream she did run, until, out of breath, she had to rest on a moss-grown stump for her father to catch up with her.
And then, in a short time, they were standing on the edge of the clearing. The brook was dancing and singing as if eager to welcome Faith; the sun shone warmly down on mill and cabin and running down the path came Mrs. Carew; while standing near the cabin was Kashaqua, in her gayest feathers, grunting and smiling.
“Mother dear! Mother dear!” called Faith, as she ran forward and was held close in her mother’s arms.