a
lord--while I'm living."

He examined the ground and found that it was rich and could be
penetrated easily, even to the very foot of the mountain. "I'll just
get my spade," he remarked, "as I ain't got nothing else to do." In
deliberate slowness he returned up the divide, and got the spade from
his retreat, then brought it to the cove. Selecting a spot near the
channel of the dried-up torrent, he began to dig, relieved to find that
he did not strike rock.

"I guess," he said, stopping to lean on his spade as he stared at the
mountain, "the earth just got too full of granite and biled over, but
was keerful to spew it upwards, so's to save as much ground as it
could, while relieving its feelings."

Presently the earth on his blade began to cling from dampness. "When I
digs a well," he remarked boastingly, "what I want is water, and that's
what I gets. As soon as it's deep enough I'll wall her up with rocks
and take the longest drink that man ever pulled off, that is to say,
when it was nothing but common water. They ain't nothing about water
to incite you to keep swallowing when you have enough. Of a sudden you
just naturally leggo and could drown in it without wanting another
drop. That's because it's nature. Art is different. I reckon a nice
clean drinking-joint and a full-stocked bar is about the highest art
that can stimulate a man. But in nature, you know when you've got
enough."

After further digging he added, "And I got about enough of THIS! I mean
the mountains and the plains and the sand and the wind and the cave and
the cove--" he wiped away the dripping sweat and looked at the sun.
"Yes, and of you, too!" He dropped the spade, and sat down on the heap
of dirt. "Oh, Lord, but I'm lonesome! I got plenty to say, but nobody
to listen at me."

He clasped his great hands about his knee, and stared sullenly at the
surrounding ramparts of red and brown granite, dully noting the
fantastic layers, the huge round stones that for ages had been about to
roll down into the valley but had never started, and others cut in odd
shapes placed one upon another in columns along the perpendicular wall.
The sun beat on the long matted hair of his bared head, but the
ceaseless wind brought relief from its pelting rays. He, however, was
conscious neither of the heat nor of the refreshing touch.

At last he rose slowly to his towering legs and picked up the spade.
"You're a fool, Brick Willock," he said harshly