He also grew more exacting with his pride, and this quality brought on the crisis.
Henry was building a fence one particularly hot afternoon, and his father coming by, cool and fresh, found fault with his work, chiefly to show his authority, because the work was not badly done--Mr.Ware was a good man, but like other good men he had a rare fault-finding impulse.
The voices in the woods had been calling very loudly that day and Henry's temper suddenly flashed into a flame.

But he did not give way to any external outburst of passion, speaking in a level, measured voice.
"I am sorry you do not like it," he said, "because it is the last work I am going to do here." "Why--what do you mean ?" exclaimed his father in astonishment.
"I am done," replied Henry in his firm tones, and dropping the fence rail that he held he walked to the house, every nerve in him thrilling with expectation of the pleasure that was to come.

His mother was there, and she started in fear at his face.
"It is true, mother," he said, "I am not going to deceive you, I am going into the forest, but I will come again and often.

It is the only life that I can lead, I was made for it I suppose; I have tried the other out there in the fields, and I have tried hard, but I cannot stand it." She knew too well to seek to stop him.

He took his rifle from its secluded corner, and the feeling of it, stock and barrel, was good to his hands.