"If I loved them."
The hunter stood up and gathered his belongings together. His questions had become more kind as though he were satisfied. He struck Webster on his shoulder.
"Come," he said, as with high trust, "I will show you the Kentucky warbler."
He looked around and his eyes fell upon the forest brook. He walked over to it, to discover in what direction it ran and beckoned.
"We'll follow this stream up: the spring may not be far away." He glanced at the tree-tops: "It is nearly noon: the bird will come to the spring to drink and to bathe."
Webster followed the hunter as he threaded his way through the forest toward the source of the brook.
Not many yards off his guide turned:
"There is the spring," he said, pointing to a green bank out of which bubbled the cool current.
"Let us sit here. Make no movement and make no noise."
How tense the stillness! They waited and listened. Finally the hunter spoke in an undertone: