said Marco. "I knew it was not the right
one, too. It's the Help over again."

"Yes, it's the Help--it's the Help--it must be," muttered The Rat,
walking fast and with a pale, set face. "It could not be anything
else."

They got away from the streets and the people and reached the quiet
place where they could see the mountains. There they sat down by the
wayside. The Rat took off his cap and wiped his forehead, but it was
not only the quick walking which had made it damp.

"The queerness of it gave me a kind of fright," he said. "When he came
out and he was near enough for me to see him, a sudden strong feeling
came over me. It seemed as if I knew he wasn't the man. Then I said
to myself--'but he looks like him'--and I began to get nervous. And
then I was sure again--and then I wanted to try to stop you from giving
him the Sign. And then it all seemed foolishness--and the next second
all the things you had told me rushed back to me at once--and I
remembered what I had been thinking ever since--and I said--'Perhaps
it's the Law beginning to work,' and the palms of my hands got moist."

Marco was very quiet. He was looking at the farthest and highest peaks
and wondering about many things.

"It was the expression of his face that was different," he said. "And
his eyes. They are rather smaller than the right man's are. The light
in the shop was poor, and it was not until the last time he bent over
me that I found out what I had not seen before. His eyes are gray--the
other ones are brown."

"Did you see that!" The Rat exclaimed. "Then we're sure! We're safe!"

"We're not safe till we've found the right man," Marco said. "Where is
he? Where is he? Where is he?"

He said the words dreamily and quietly, as if he were lost in
thought--but also rather as if he expected an answer. And he still
looked at the far-off peaks. The Rat, after watching him a moment or
so, began to look at them also. They were like a loadstone to him too.
There was something stilling about them, and when your eyes had rested
upon them a few moments they did not want to move away.

"There must be a ledge up there somewhere," he said at last.

"Let's go up and look for it and sit there and think and think--about
finding the right man."

There seemed nothing fantastic in this to Marco. To go into some quiet
place and sit and think about the thing he wanted to remember or to
find out was an old way of his. To be quiet was