like a map at his feet he could see the evening held on the circle of the because that was the only level ground could see the wonderful green of the young rice the of the indian corn the dock like patches of and in its season the red bloom of the whose tiny seeds being neither grain nor pulse make a food that can be eaten by in time of the second book when the year turned the roofs of the huts were all little squares of purest gold for it was on the roofs that they laid out their of the corn to dry and harvest and passed before his eyes all embroidered down there on the plots of fields and he thought of them all and wondered what they all led to at the long last even in india a man cannot a day sit still before things run over him as though he were a rock and in that wilderness very soon the wild the miracle of things who knew s shrine well came back to look at the intruder the the big gray of the were naturally the first for they are alive with curiosity and when they had upset the and rolled it round the floor and tried their teeth on the brass handled and made faces at the skin they decided that the human being who sat so still was harmless at evening they would leap down from the pines and beg with their hands for things to eat and then swing off in graceful curves they liked the warmth of the fire too and huddled round it till had to push them aside to throw on more fuel and in the morning as often as not he would find a sharing his blanket all day long one or r of the tribe would sit by his side staring out at the and looking wise and sorrowful after the came the that big deer which is like our red deer but stronger he wished to rub off the velvet of his horns against the cold stones of s statue and stamped his feet when he saw the man at the shrine but never moved and little by little the royal edged up and the second book his shoulder slid one cool hand along the hot and the touch soothed the fretted beast who bowed his head and very softly rubbed and off the velvet afterward the brought his and � gentle things that on the holy man s blanket � or would come alone at night his eyes green in the fire to take his share of fresh at last the the and almost the smallest of the came too her big ears erect even silent must needs find out what the light in the shrine meant and drop her like nose into s lap coming and going with the shadows of the fire called them all my brothers and his low call of would draw them from the forest at noon if they were within the black bear moody and suspicious � who has the v shaped white mark under his chin � passed that way more than once and since the showed no fear showed no anger but watched him and came closer and begged a share of the caresses and a of bread or wild often in the still when the would climb to the very crest of the pass to watch the red the miracle of day walking along the peaks of the he would find shuffling and at his heels thrusting a curious fore under fallen trunks and bringing it away with a of impatience or his early steps would wake where he lay curled up and the great brute rising erect would think to fight till he heard the s voice and knew his best friend nearly all and holy men who live apart from the big cities have the reputation of being able to work miracles with the wild things but all the miracle lies in keeping still in never making a hasty movement and for a long time at least in never looking directly at a visitor the villagers saw the outline of the like a shadow through the dark forest behind the shrine saw the the blazing in her best colors before s statue and the on their inside playing with the shells some of the children too had heard singing to himself behind the fallen rocks and the s reputation as miracle stood firm yet nothing was further from his mind than miracles he believed that all things were one big miracle and when a man knows that much he knows something to go upon he knew for a the second book certainty that there was nothing great and nothing little in this world and day and night he strove to think out his way into the heart of things back to the place whence his soul had come so thinking his hair fell down about his shoulders the stone at the side of the skin was into a little hole by the foot of his brass handled and the place between the tree trunks where the begging bowl rested day after day sunk and wore into a hollow almost as smooth as the brown shell itself and each beast knew his exact place at the fire the fields changed their colors with the seasons the floors filled and emptied and filled again and again and again and again when winter came the among the branches with light snow till the brought their sad eyed little babies up from the warmer valleys with the spring there were few changes in the village the priest was older and many of the little children who used to come with the begging dish sent their own children now and when you asked of the villagers how long their holy man had lived in s shrine at 