With the arrival of 1926, the public saw the last of Jim’s historical novels and the last book length work which he ever wrote. This one was entitled “The Black Hunter.” Its sale was widespread.
Following the publication of “The Black Hunter” Curwood devoted himself to shorter forms of fiction and several articles on the preservation of natural resources. During this period Jim came closer to God in his love of nature than ever before. His life thus far was a success. Upon many occasions while relaxing in his studio, he would unconsciously pick up his pen and write his feelings about God and mankind. A few of these memorable writings have been preserved:
“The Great Master has opened to me the book wherein is written the secret of a joyful life—a secret which he never intended to be hidden, but which has been concealed for untold years because men will not read what is spread upon the pages of the wonderful book, or having read, will not believe. Their eyes are hidden so that they do not see the glory of living and their ears do not hear the myriad sounds which blend in life’s immortal melody.”
“I have found the great understanding heart of Nature, and the thrill of its discovery has set the blood coursing faster in my veins. I have learned to understand the voice of Nature, and in doing so have obtained health, developed faith, and partaken of the glory of living. In that voice there is inspiration, and it whispers to me the hope that all shall soon understand.”
Jim lived a life wherein he had found the true joy of living and consequently his habits were of the best type. Believing strongly that there is good in every man and woman, he wrote and created his characters in much the same manner:
“The world is filled with strong and good men, and with women who are beautiful and virtuous, people who are the equals or superiors of those who live in the pages of my books. It is about such folks that I choose to write.
“I thank God that in only one of my books, and that an early one, have I approached what would have evidently pleased that critic. Why should I not write of wholesome men and women, of clean actions, of just and upright conduct? Why should I not recount tales of people who cherished ideals? Why should I refrain from telling of the things to which we all aspire?
“I see no good reason why I should take a woman of the streets and glorify her, though once, when I was a boy, one of them gave me a glimpse of as unselfish a devotion to the finer things in life as I have ever known in any woman. There are too many good women whom I may glorify and clothe with ideals. Why should I make my women ugly in character or in appearance when we all love beauty? We always choose the most beautiful flowers of the entire garden for the bed chambers of our guests.
“Why shouldn’t I punish the bad people in my books and make a record that happiness came eventually to those who deserved it? Some critics may say, ‘people are not like that and things don’t come out that way,’ but my experience has been to the contrary. Happiness does come to those who deserve it. Eventually their ears do catch the immortal melody of life, as Melisse heard the music of her people; and they often learn to appreciate it long before they pass on to another existence.”