Little birds flaming in color darted among the boughs and others more modest in garb poured forth a full volume of song.

Dick, sensitive to sights and sounds, hummed a tune himself.

It was the thundering song of the sea that he had heard Samuel Jarvis sing in the Kentucky Mountains: They bore him away when the day had fled, And the storm was rolling high, And they laid him down in his lonely bed By the light of an angry sky.
The lightning flashed and the wild sea lashed The shore with its foaming wave, And the thunder passed on the rushing blast, As it howled o'er the rover's grave.
He pressed on, hour after hour, through the deep woods, meeting no one, but content.

At noon his horse suddenly showed signs of great weariness, and Dick, remembering how much he had ridden him over muddy roads, gave him a long rest.

Besides, there was no need to hurry.