see. One purple
cluster, full blown, was shaking in the wind. Grayson was leaning back
in a dream when I let the glass down. A cool breath from the woods
behind us brought the odor of roots and of black earth; up in the
leaves and sunlight somewhere a wood-thrush was singing, and I saw in
Grayson's face what I had not seen for a long time, and that was
peace--the peace of stubborn purpose. He did not come for me the next
day, nor the next; but the next he did, earlier than usual.

"I am going to get that rhododendron," he said. "I have been half-way
up--it can be reached." So had I been half-way up. With nerve and
agility the flower could be got, and both these Grayson had. If he had
wanted to climb up there and drop, he could have done it alone, and he
would have known that I should have found him. Grayson was testing
himself again, and, angry with him for the absurdity of the thing and
with myself for humoring it, but still not sure of him, I picked up my
hat and went. I swore to myself silently that it was the last time I
should pay any heed to his whims. I believed this would be the last.
The affair with the girl was over. The flower sent, I knew Grayson
would never mention her name again.

Nature was radiant that afternoon. The mountains had the leafy
luxuriance of June, and a rich, sunlit haze drowsed on them between the
shadows starting out over the valley and the clouds so white that the
blue of the sky looked dark. Two eagles shot across the mouth of the
Gap as we neared it, and high beyond buzzards were sailing over
Grayson's rhododendron.

I went up the ravine with him and I climbed up behind him--Grayson
going very deliberately and whistling softly. He called down to me
when he reached the shelf that looked half-way.

"You mustn't come any farther than this," he said. "Get out on that
rock and I'll drop them down to you."

Then he jumped from the ledge and caught the body of a small tree close
to the roots, and my heart sank at such recklessness and all my fears
rose again. I scrambled hastily to the ledge, but I could get no
farther. I might possibly make the jump he had made--but how should I
ever get back? How would he? I called angrily after him now, and he
wouldn't answer me. I called him a fool, a coward; I stamped the ledge
like a child--but Grayson kept on, foot after hand, with stealthy
caution, and the purple cluster nodding down at him made my head whirl.
I had to lie do