"Jest another proof, Henry, that it's the real Garden o' Eden. Them buff'ler haven't seen or smelt a human bein' since Adam an' Eve left, an' ez that wuz a long time ago they've got over any feelin' o' fear o' people, ef they ever had it. Look at them deer, too, over thar, loafin' 'long through the high grass, an' not skeered o' anythin'. An' the wolves that follered us last night don't come here. Thar ain't a sign o' a wolf ever hevin' been in the valley."
Henry laughed, but there was no trace of irony in the laugh. The shiftless one's vivid fancy or belief pleased him. It was possible, too, that Indians would not come there. It might be some sacred place of the old forgotten people who had built the mounds and who had been exterminated by the Indians. But the Indians were full of superstition, and often they feared and respected the sacred places of those whom they had slain. For the boldest of the warriors, avenging spirits might be hovering there, and they would fear them more than they would fear the white men with rifles.
"Let's go up to the head of the valley," he said to Shif'less Sol. "If we keep back among the bushes we won't be seen."
"All right," said his comrade. "I want to see that gate between the hills, that the creek comes from, an' I want to take a look, too, at that grove o' big trees growin' thar."
Henry reckoned the length of the valley at two miles and its width at a half mile on the average, with the creek flowing down almost its exact center. At the head it narrowed fast, until it came to the gash between the hills, where grew the largest oaks and elms that he had ever seen. It was in truth a magnificent grove and it gave the shiftless one extreme delight which he expressed vocally. He surveyed the trees and the hills behind them with a measuring and comprehensive eye.
"Them hills ain't so high," he said, "but they're high enough to shut out the winds o' winter, bein' ez they face the north an' west, an' here curves the creek atween 'em, through a gap not more'n ten feet wide. An' look how them big trees grow so close together, an' in a sort o' curve. Why, that's shorely whar Adam an' Eve spent thar winters. It wouldn't take much work, thatching with poles an' bark to rig up the snuggest kind o' a bower. These big trees here ag'inst the cliff almost make a cabin themselves."
"And one that we'll occupy the rest of the day. It would be impossible for a warrior ten yards away to see us in here, while we can see almost the whole length of the valley. I think we'd better stay here, Sol, and make ourselves comfortable for the rest of the day. You need sleep, and so will I later. It's easy to make beds. The dead leaves must lie a foot thick on the ground."
"It's a wonder they ain't thicker, gatherin' here ever since Adam an' Eve moved."
"They rot beneath and the wind blows away a lot on top, but there's plenty left. Now, I'm not sleepy at all. You take a nap and I'll watch, although I'm sure no enemy will come."
"Reckon I will, Henry. It's peaceful an' soothin' here in the Garden o' Eden, an' ef I dream I'll dream good dreams."