img Riddle of the Storm / A Mystery Story for Boys  /  Chapter 10 THE VOICE OF THE WILDERNESS | 35.71%
Download App
Reading History

Chapter 10 THE VOICE OF THE WILDERNESS

Word Count: 1197    |    Released on: 01/12/2017

abin on the shore of far-off Great Slave Lake were speaking of this same bird. This did not come to pass, however, until a certain myst

white man, was known far and wide as "The Voice of the Wilderness," or more briefly as "The Voice." The Voice s

is ways; knew, too, that at times he was able to rende

him with a hearty "B'Jo" (a corruption of the French bon jour), made a place for

was Sandy MacDonald who talked. And when Sandy elected to speak something wa

invited Johnny to join him in a stroll in the moonlight along the shore before the cabin. As they walked along the snow-w

e this is the

ohnny looked at

. I was prospecting then with a pack on my back. No, I didn'

spring and summer. Why? I couldn't tell you that. Per

Once there was a man who was asked to define peace. He led the one who asked to a waterfall

end cried. 'Do yo

re on a slender branch, is a tiny bird. And if you will watch closely, though because of the thundering waters you ca

hat, thousands of them. Go into some great steel mill where is constant din and confusion. Look far up to

he answer it w

re where the rush is greatest; in the wheat pit where men are shouting loudest;

me, this is the place of peace. Do you know that a

ny n

ny tree. When God and the birds planted the

ggs and rear their young. There's an egg or two extra for me. There are ptarmigan in the lo

ne stormy day you see the caribou passing by your cabin,

There must be a prosperous village deep in the heart of this bay. There the saw mills are humming and the merchants are

no saw mill, no store, no bed save that of spruce bo

illage, nor even an inhabited cabin.

. "That is why I love it. That is w

wing a trail not made by man but by wild creatures of the North; moose, caribou, deer and bear had been there. And then I, smal

ny. The air was cool and damp. And such a stillness as there

rood in a tree near-by would spy me. And, ah! how he wo

ack-coated one would come over shouting at me. I'd shout back and laugh, laugh at him and at the sun and everything that is good and

Come, let us go inside. The silence may be broken. The Voice may speak. It

Download App
icon APP STORE
icon GOOGLE PLAY