"Is it that we stand at the top of the hill and the end of the travel has
come, Pierre? Why don't you spake?"

"We stand at the top of the hill, and it is the end."

"And Lonely Valley is at our feet and Whiteface Mountain beyond?"

"One at our feet, and the other beyond, Shon McGann."

"It's the sight of my eyes I wish I had in the light of the sun this
mornin'. Tell me, what is't you see?"

"I see the trees on the foot-hills, and all the branches shine with
frost. There is a path--so wide!--between two groves of pines. On
Whiteface Mountain lies a glacier-field . . . and all is still." . . .

"The voice of you is far-away-like, Pierre--it shivers as a hawk cries.
It's the wind, the wind, maybe."

"There's not a breath of life from hill or valley."

"But I feel it in my face."

"It is not the breath of life you feel."

"Did you not hear voices coming athwart the wind? . . . Can you see the
people at the mines?"

"I have told you what I see."