would have held holy. But Lan Kell- 

 yan's keen gray eyes were turned to 

 other things. The childish delight in 

 life and light for their own sakes had 

 faded, as they must in one whose train- 

 ing had been to make him hold them 

 very cheap. Why value grass? All the 

 world is grass. Why value air, when it is 

 everywhere in measureless immensity? 

 Why value life, when, all alive, his liv- 

 ing cameJTom taking life? His senses 

 were alert, not for the rainbow hills and 

 the gem-bright lakes, but for the liv- 

 ing things that he must meet in daily 

 rivalry, each staking on the game, his 

 life. Hunter was written on his 

 leathern garb, on his tawny face, on 

 his lithe and sinewy form, and shone 

 in his clear gray eye. 



The cloven granite peak might 

 pass unmarked, but a faint dimple in 

 the sod did not. Calipers could not 



