There seemed but one way, and that almost hopeless, as it involved a sacrifice of life, and he knew too well the nature of the trees to expect any of them to give themselves up for his travelers.  How could he ask it, as he stepped into the deep wood, and looked on their grand proportions and rich foliage?  His was no enviable position to entreat them to give up the existence which must be dear to themselves,—­to pass from the known to the unknown life.

Vainly he tried to think of another way to accomplish his purpose.  None presented itself; so with glowing words he appealed to their nobler selves, telling them all the great need of the travelers who were obliged to pass that way.  First he appealed to a fine birch which bordered the forest.

“Not I, indeed!” answered the tree.  “Do you think I would give my life to light a few people through this woodland?  I prefer to live a few years longer.”

He next addressed a walnut.  She shook a few leaves from her branches, and made a similar reply, preferring to live in her own form, and amid her sister trees, to going she knew not whither.

“Are there none here,” he continued, “who are willing to sacrifice their lives for the needs of others?”

He looked around the forest in vain:  all were silent, and he was about to return to the people, when a large and stately oak spoke in clear and ringing tones, saying, “I will give my body that the travelers may have light.”

“What! that grand old body of yours, that has been so many years growing and maturing to its present stately and fair proportions!” exclaimed several of the trees.

“You are not only rash, but foolish,” remarked a small fir growing by its side.

“Beside taking away the pride of our grand old forest,” said a delicate birch, that had always admired the oak.

“Just throwing your life away,” broke in a tall and rather sickly pine.

“When will you be ready for me?” asked the oak of the leader, who had stood admiring its beautiful proportions, and sorrowing within himself that it must be so.

At the close of the next day the travelers came to the edge of the forest, and tarried while their leader lit the fire at the roots of the oak.  Now the flames went upward and flashed in the darkness; for it was evening, and not a star was visible.  The flames rose upward and touched not even the bark of another tree, but wound closely around the oak, as though it knew its work and that the light of that tree only was needed to pass the travelers through in safety.  It touched their hearts to thus witness that the life of the noble oak must be sacrificed, and they offered, with one accord, a silent prayer that its life might be extended in a higher form.  Having passed through, they tarried at the end of the forest until the flames died away, and then pursued their journey.

* * * * *

Years passed away.  From the pile of ashes left by the departed oak sprang lovely flowers, which charmed the eyes of all the trees in the forest, and atoned, in a great measure, for the loss of their noble companion.