He is a baby Indian as much a part of the mountain as the leaping squirrels and not nearly so tame.

He is the one thing here that I think Desire is sorry to leave.

And for this reason I hoped he wouldn't appear before we were gone.

I had done all my packing--easy enough since I had scarcely unpacked--and I could hear Desire moving about doing hers.

The place seemed particularly peaceful.
I could, have felt almost sorry to leave my cool, bare room with its tree-stump for a table and all the forest just outside.