His heart beat wildly and he was afraid lest the strain be too much; but the girl shook her head and smiled and pointed to the top of the mountain. Wood the carpenter. Let’s go on climbing now. “I am a fool,” he said. He seemed to possess a penetration and cunning beyond his years—to hide a man's judgment under a boy's mask. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. Bring the light this way—quick! I cannot decipher the signature. “Even if he lives here you may go all your life and never come face to face with him again. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill. .
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