were no more to him than a mile 

 to another man, for he could run 

 all day and come home fresh, and 

 always when alone in the lone 

 hills he felt within so glad a gush 

 of wild exhilaration that his joy was 

 full 



So when his friends, feeling sure 

 that he could take care of himself, 

 drove home and left him, he was 

 glad to be left. They seemed rather 

 to pity him for imposing on himself 

 such long, toilsome tramps. They 

 had no realization of what he found 

 in those wind-swept hills. They 

 never once thought what they and 

 all their friends and every man that 

 ever lived has striven for and offered 

 his body, his brain, his freedom, and 



33 



