interest; with the sorb he saw nothing as self-existent--
everything appeared as an object of importance or non-importance to
his own needs.

Rather puzzled as to how this would turn out, he got up and looked
about him. He had slept out of sight of Oceaxe. He was anxious to
learn if she were still on the spot, but before going to ascertain he
made up his mind to bathe in the river.

It was a glorious morning. The hot white sun already began to glare,
but its heat was tempered by a strong wind, which whistled through
the trees. A host of fantastic clouds filled the sky. They looked
like animals, and were always changing shape. The ground, as well as
the leaves and branches of the forest trees, still held traces of
heavy dew or rain during the night. A poignantly sweet smell of
nature entered his nostrils. His pain was quiescent, and his spirits
were high.

Before he bathed, he viewed the mountains of the Ifdawn Marest. In
the morning sunlight they stood out pictorially. He guessed that
they were from five to six thousand feet high. The lofty, irregular,
castellated line seemed like the walls of a magic city. The cliffs
fronting him were composed of gaudy rocks--vermilion, emerald,
yellow, ulfire, and black. As he gazed at them, his heart began to
beat like a slow, heavy drum, and he thrilled all over--
indescribable hopes, aspirations, and emotions came over him. It was
more than the conquest of a new world which he felt--it was
something different....

He bathed and drank, and as he was reclothing himself, Oceaxe