e men do not pass often, it is
nothing to be poor. Little Hansei and his mother were poor, but that was
nothing to him. They lived on the side of a great hill, where, save
their small black hut with its little gauzy curl of smoke, there was no
sign of life as far as eye could reach. And it seemed to Hansei that the
whole world was theirs, and they were the whole world. Yet on fair days,
far below, the misty towers and steeples of a city showed. But this was
as unreal and unreachable as dreams and clouds to Hansei; the only
difference was, a yellow road wound down to it, and if one went far
enough he might some day reach that strange, misty place. But
dreams--they always went at morning; and clouds--if he climbed to the
highest point of the hill he could never reach them!

Sometimes people had passed that way. Once a man had gone bearing a
burden. Another time, as Hansei and his mother gathered up their fagots
at evening, a man and woman passed together; the sunset light was on the
woman, and she sang as she went. Again, men in dark robes and hoods
passed by; some had ridden on mules, some were grave and walked, reading
from small books, others laughed. And these were all (except a peddler
who had lost his way) that Hansei had ever seen go by.

People seldom went that way; the road was steep, and there was an easier
way down at the other side, his mother said.

Once Hansei asked her if those who had passed were all the people there
were besides themselves. His mother said, "There are others off there,"
pointing to the city.

Every morning before it was light Hansei's mother went away to the other
side of the hills somewhere.

The first time he awoke and found the black loaf and water waiting and
his mother gone, he had cried and searched and called her over and over.
"Mother! Mother!" he had cried as loud as he could call down the yellow
road.

"Mother! Mother!" had come a strange voice from beyond the hills; and
Hansei's heart had leaped with a new joy. He cried back wildly, "Where
are you?"

"Where are you?" cried the voice again.

"I am here!"

"I am here!"

"Come to me!"

"Come to me!"

All day Hansei and the strange voice from beyond the hills called and
cried to each other. Hansei thought: "It is true there are others off
there, and some one is calling to me."

At night the mother came back. Hansei asked: "Where have you been?" and
put up his arms. His mother said: "At the other side of the hill,"