Thar ain't no chance, though, out here, whar thar ain't nothin' much but cabins, an' every man builds his own hisself." "Never mind, Jim," said Paul, "your time will come; and if it doesn't come to you, it will come to your sons." "Paul, you're talkin' foolisher than ever," said Jim indignantly.

"You know that I ain't a married man, an' that I ain't got no sons." Paul only smiled.

Again he was dreaming, looking far into the future.
The spire of smoke was still on the horizon line when the twilight came, but the next morning it was gone, and they did not see it again.

Several days more passed in peace and contentment, and, desiring to secure more game, Paul and Hart took out the canoe one evening and rowed to the mainland.
They watched a while about the mouth of the brook, the favorite drinking place of the wild animals, but they saw nothing.

It seemed likely to Paul that a warning had been sent to all the tenants of the forest not to drink there any more, as it was a dangerous place, and he expressed a desire to go farther into the forest.
"All right, Paul," said Jim Hart, "but you kain't be too keerful.