ciers. Then viscosity, the lines
of swiftest motion, relegation, and directions of pressure came forth
from the printed pages and mocked him. He arose in his might and went
forth into the open air.
Before going out he had put on his canvas shooting coat and a pair of
hobnailed leather hunting boots, laced for a little distance at the
front and sides. He visited the horses, standing disconsolate under an
open shed in the corral; he slopped, with constantly accruing masses of
sticky earth at his feet, to the chicken coop, into which he cast an
eye; he even took the kitchen pails and tramped down to the spring and
back. In the gulch he did not see or hear a living thing. A newly-born
and dirty little stream was trickling destructively through all manner
of shivering grasses and flowers. The water from Bennington's sleeves
ran down over the harsh canvas cuffs and turned his hands purple with
the cold. He returned to the cabin and changed his clothes.
The short walk had refreshed him, but it had spurred his impatience.
Outside, the world seemed to have changed. His experience with the
Hills, up to now, had always been in one phase of their beauty--that of
clear, bright sunshine and soft skies. Now it was as a different
country. He could not get rid of the feeling, foolish as it was, that
it was in reality different; and that the whole episode of the girl and
the rock was as a vision which had passed. It grew indistinct in the
presence of this iron reality of cold and wet. He could not assure
himself he had not imagined it all. Thus, belated, he came to thinking
of her again, and having now nothing else to do, he fell into daydreams
that had no other effect than to reveal to him the impatience which had
been, from the first, the real cause of his restlessness under the
temporary confinement. Now the impatience grew in intensity. He
resolved that if the morrow did not end the storm, he would tramp down
the gulch to make a call. All this time _Aliris_ lay quite untouched.
The next day dawned darker than ever. After breakfast Old Mizzou, as
usual, went out to feed the horses, and Bennington, through sheer
idleness, accompanied him. They distributed the oats and hay, and then
stood, sheltered from the direct rain, conversing idly.
Suddenly the wind died and the rain ceased. In the place of the gloom
succeeded a strange sulphur-yellow glare which lay on the spirit with
almost physical oppression. Old Mizzou shouted somethin
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