A minute afterwards, having chopped down a hickory sapling, he began to
pry at the boulder which held the mass. Presently a tree came crashing
down, and a small rush of earth followed it, and the hearts of the men
above and the woman and children below stood still for an instant. An
hour passed as Macavoy toiled with a strange careful skill and a
superhuman concentration. His body was all shining with sweat, and sweat
dripped like water from his forehead. His eyes were on the keyrock and
the pile, alert, measuring, intent. At last he paused. He looked round at
the hills-down at the river, up at the sky-humanity was shut away from
his sight. He was alone. A long hot breath broke from his pressed lips,
stirring his big red beard. Then he gave a call, a long call that echoed
through the hills weirdly and solemnly.

It reached the ears of those above like a greeting from an outside world.
They answered, "Right, Macavoy!"

Years afterwards these men told how then there came in reply one word,
ringing roundly through the hills--the note and symbol of a crisis, the
fantastic cipher of a soul:

"M'Guire!"

There was a loud booming sound, the dyke was loosed, the ravine split
into the swollen stream its choking mouthful of earth and rock; and a
minute afterwards the path was clear to the top of Champak Hill. To it
came the unharmed children and their mother, who, from the warm peak sent
the wild duck "to the rose o' the valley," which, till the message came,
was trembling on the stem of life. But Joy, that marvellous healer, kept
it blooming with a little Eden bird nestling near, whose happy tongue was
taught in after years to tell of the gift of the Simple King; who had