The Boy slept, and there was peace awhile. Then 

 came faint echoes of the waking thoughts odd 

 words shot out, of hope and resolution ; murmured 

 names of those at home. Once his hand went out 

 and gently touched the turf, reaching for the friend 

 and comrade of the past one who knew his every 

 mood, had heard his wildest dreams described, had 

 seen him, hot-eyed, breathless, struggling to escape 

 the cage ; one to whom the boyish soul was often 

 bared in foolish confidence ; one who could see and 

 hear and feel, yet never tell a little red retriever 

 left at home ; and the boy stirred and sighed, for answer 

 to the soft brown eyes. 



No ! It is not good for man to be alone. 



A wisp of drifting cloud came by, a breath of cooler 

 air, and the fickle spirit of the mountain changed the 

 day as with a wand. The Boy woke up shivering, 

 dazed, bewildered : the mountain of his dreams had 

 vanished ; and his dog was not there ! The cold 

 driving mist had blotted out the world. Stronger and 

 stronger grew the wind, driving the damp cold through 

 and through ; for on the bleak plateau of the mountain 

 nothing broke its force. 



Pale and shaken, and a little stiff, he looked about ; 

 then slowly faced the storm. It had not struck him 

 to turn back. 



The gusts blew stronger, and through the mist came 

 rain, in single stinging drops portents of the greater 

 storm. Slowly, as he bent to breast it, the chilled 

 blood warmed, and when the first thunderclap split 



9 



