But the Nowhere Man, to whom they referred the settlement of the first round of the game, decided that both had lost because they spoke only of accidental phenomena.
With the next round they came into a little forest on a sandy hill. The oak-trees were still bare, and the fir-trees were rusty green, and the maple-trees were in rosy bud. On these things the travellers were agreed.
But among the withered foliage on the ground a vine trailed far and wide with verdant leaves, thick and heavy, and under the leaves were clusters of rosy stars, breathing a wonderful sweetness, so that the travellers could not but smell it.
"Rough-leaf," said the Somewhere Man; "gravel-weed we call it in our country, because it marks the poorest soil."
"Trailing arbutus," said the Anywhere Man; "May-flowers we call them in our country."
"But why?" asked the Nowhere Man. "May has not yet come."
"She is coming," answered the other; "she will be here before these are gone."
On the other side of the wood they entered a meadow where a little bird was bubbling over with music in the air.
"Skunk-blackbird," said the Somewhere Man; "colours the same as a skunk."
"Bobolink," said the Anywhere Man; "spills his song while he flies."