o push on alone. He took John to
keep him company after their departure, and because the two prisoners
could not well be left in charge of Bateese, who besides had his
hands full with the baggage. So Bateese and McQuarters toiled
behind, the little man grunting and shifting his load from time to
time with a glance to assure himself that McQuarters was holding out;
now and then slackening the pace, but still, as he plodded, measuring
the slopes ahead with his eye, comparing progress with the sun's
march, and timing himself to reach the ridge at nightfall.
Barboux had proposed to camp there, on the summit. The Indians were
to push forward through the darkness.

Meanwhile John stepped ahead with Barboux and the Indians.
His spirits rose as he climbed above the forest; the shadow which had
lain on them slipped away and melted in the clear air. Here and
there he stumbled, his knees reminding him suddenly of his weakness;
but health was coming back to him, and he drank in long pure draughts
of it. It was good, after all, to be alive and young. A sudden
throbbing in the air brought him to a halt; it came from a tiny
humming-bird poising itself over a bush-tufted rock on his right.
As it sang on, careless of his presence, John watched the
music bubbling and trembling within its flame-coloured throat.
He, too, felt ready to sing for no other reason than pure delight.
He understood the ancient gods and their laughter; he smiled down
with them upon the fret of the world and mortal fate. Father Jove,
_optimus maximus_, was a grand fellow, a good Catholic in spite of
misconception, and certainly immortal; god and gentleman both, large,
lusty, superlative, tolerant, debonair. As for misconception, from
this height Father Jove could overlook centuries of it at ease--the
Middle Ages, for instance. Everyone had been more or less cracked in
the Middle Ages--cracked as fiddles. Likely enough Jove had made the
Middle Ages, to amuse himself. . . .

As the climb lulled his brain, John played with these idle fancies.
Barboux, being out of condition and scant of breath, conversed very
little. The Indians kept silence as usual.

The sun was dropping behind the cleft of the pass as they reached it,
and the rocky walls opened in the haze of its yellow beams. So once
more John came to the gate of a new world.

Menehwehna led, Barboux followed, with John close behind, and
Muskingon bringing up the rear. They were treading the actu