the spell of
the mountain seen afar is but a little echo of the mountain power when
it has raised you up.

He recalled the familiar words, not understood till now:

"Thy mercies are like mountains great,
Thy judgments are like floods."

He gazed and his breath came fast as he took in the thought, old
thoughts, yet new thoughts, strong and elusive, and wondered what he had
found.

Crossing the little upland, he approached its farther end and stood by
the pinnacle of rock that, like a lonely watchman, forever looked down
on the blue and golden plains. A mountain chipmunk stared at him,
flicked its tail, and dived under a flat ledge; a bird whose real home
was a thousand miles off in the north faced the upland breeze and sang
in its unknown tongue. Jim drew still nearer the rocky spire, rounded a
ledge, and faced an unexpected sight. In a little open lodge of willows,
bent and roofed with a canvas cover, sat an Indian youth, alone,
motionless, beside him was a pot of water, and between him and the tall
rock, a little fire, from which a tiny thread of smoke arose.

Hartigan started, for that very morning he had learned from the old
Jesuit enough about the Red-men to know that this was something unusual.
On the rock beyond the fire he saw, painted in red, two symbols that are
used in the Red-man's prayers: "the blessed vision" leading up to the
"spirit heart of all things." A measure of comprehension came to him,
and Father Cyprian's words returned in new force.

The lad in the little lodge raised a hand in the sign of "Stop," then
gently waved in a way that, in all lands and languages, means: "Please
go away." There was a soft, dreamy look in his face, and Jim, realizing
that he had entered another man's holy place, held back and, slowly
turning, sought the downward trail.

It came to him clearly now this was one of the interesting things told
him that morning by the Jesuit. This Indian boy was taking his
_hambeday_, his manhood fast and vigil; seeking for the vision that
should be his guide, he was burning his altar fire beside the Spirit
Rock.

As he retraced his steps the wonder of this new world enveloped Jim. At
the edge of the cedars he paused and, looking out over the great expanse
of green plumage, he said aloud: "All my life have I lived in the bottom
of a little narrow well, with barely a glimpse of the sky, and never a
view of the world. Now I am suddenly brought forth to see the world and
the