He will adapt himself to what he can't change. The man
who can't do that must suffer. He may even perish. And to cling to
life is the prime law. That's why it is a fundamental instinct that
makes a man want to run when he can no longer fight."
Hollister said nothing. He was always a good listener. He preferred to
hear what other men said, to weigh their words, rather than pour out
his own ideas. Lawanne sometimes liked to talk at great length, to
assume the oracular vein, to analyze actions and situations, to put
his finger on a particular motive and trace its origin, its most
remote causation. Mills seldom talked. It was strange to hear him
speak as he did now, to Lawanne.
Mills walked back through the flat with Hollister. They trudged
silently through the soft, new snow, the fresh fall which had enabled
Hollister to track and kill the big deer early that morning. The sun
was setting. Its last beam struck flashing on the white hills. The
back of the winter was broken, the March storms nearly at an end. In a
little while now, Hollister thought, the buds would be bursting, there
would be a new feel in the air, new fragrant smells arising in the
forest, spring freshets in the rivers, the wild duck flying north.
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