yet, and he was determined that this should not be the first time. He
had the unaccountable conviction that the lap of the future held
something in store for him, and that he would come into his own in due
time.

The higher he climbed the more wonderful became the view. The trail
twisted around the mountain side, and from this vantage ground the
solitary traveller could look forth upon vast reaches of forest and
great wild meadows far below, with here and there placid lakes,
mirroring trees, mountain peaks, and billowy clouds. The voices of his
companions had long since died away, and he was alone with the brooding
silence all around, and his own thoughts for company.

At noon he rested under the shade of an old storm-beaten tree, and ate
his meagre lunch. This finished, he lighted his pipe and stretched
himself full length upon the mossy ground. He was feeling more
contented than he had been in many a day. The air was invigorating,
and a desire came over him to be up and doing. His old indifference to
life seemed to slip away like a useless and impeding garment, leaving
him free for action. He even thought with pleasure of mingling again
in the activities of civilization, and winning for himself a worthy
reputation. He would make good in the north, and then go back and
surprise his friend, the editor, and all who knew him.

So strong was this feeling that he sat suddenly up, wondering what had
come over him to cause the subtle change. "It must be the wild mystery
of this region," he mused. "It is stimulating and impelling. It may
be the spirit of the mountains, and the other grand things of nature.
They are carrying out the designs for which they were intended, and
perhaps they have silently rebuked me for being a traitor to the