n went
back, with a whole and confident heart, to his task of nipping the
grass. Robert was pleased. It was certain that the bull no longer
regarded him with either fear or apprehension, and he wanted to be
liked.

It was nearly noon when he reached his summit, and as he was warm from
exercise he sat down on a rock, staying there a long time and scouring
the horizon now and then through the glasses. The sea was a circle of
blazing blue, and the light wind sang from the southwest.

He had brought food with him and in the middle of the day he ate it.
With nothing in particular to do he thought he would spend the afternoon
there, and, making himself comfortable, he waited, still taking
occasional glances through the glasses. While he sat, idling more than
anything else, his mind became occupied with Tayoga's theory of spirits
in the air--less a theory however than the religious belief of the
Indians.

He wanted to believe that Tayoga was right, and his imagination was so
vivid and intense that what he wished to believe he usually ended by
believing. He shut his eyes and tested his power of evocation. He knew
that he could create feeling in any part of his body merely by
concentrating his mind upon that particular part of it and by continuing
to think of it. Physical sensation even came from will. So he would
imagine that he heard spirits in the air all about him, not anything
weird or hostile, but just kindly people of the clouds and winds, such
as those created by the old Greeks.

Fancying that he heard whispers about him and resolved to hear them, he
heard them. If a powerful imagination wanted to create whispers it could
create them. The spirits of the air, Tayoga's spirits, the spirits of
old Hellas, were singing in either ear, and the song, like that of the
sea, like the flavor breathed out by his Christmas celebration, was full
of courage, alive with hope.

He had kept his eyes closed a full half hour, because, with sight shut
off, the other senses became much more acute for the time. The power
that had been in the eyes was poured into their allies. Imagination, in
particular, leaped into a sudden luxuriant growth. It was true, of
course it was quite true, that those friendly spirits of the air were
singing all about him. They were singing in unison a gay and brilliant
song, very pleasant to hear, until he was startled by a new note that
came into it, a note not in harmony with the others, the voice of
Cassand