ather as if the whole
creation paused at this zenith to look round on its works, and beheld
and saw that they were all very good.

There were no clear paths, apparently few people went that way;
certainly there was no one about when Julia and Rawson-Clew came. It
is true they saw a kind of little beer-garden at the foot of the
slope, but there was no one idling about it.

"We shall have to come back here for lunch," Julia said.

And when he suggested that it was rather a pity to have to retrace
their steps, she answered, "It doesn't matter, we are not going
anywhere particular; we may just as well wander one way as another.
When we get to the top this time we will explore to the right, and
when we get there again after lunch, we will go to the left; don't you
think that is the best way? This is to be a holiday, you know."

"Is a real holiday like a dog's wanderings?" Rawson-Clew inquired;
"bounded by no purpose except dinner when hungry?"

Julia thought it must be something of the kind. "Though," she said,
"dogs always seem to have some end in view, or perhaps a dozen ends,
for though they tear off after an imaginary interest as if there was
nothing else in the world, they get tired of it, or else start
another, and forget all about the first."

"That must also be part of the essence of a holiday," Rawson-Clew
said; "at least, one would judge it to be so; boys and dogs, the only
things in nature who really understand the art of holiday-making,
chase wild geese, and otherwise do nothing of any account, with an
inexhaustible energy, and a purposeful determination wonderful to
behold. Also, they forget that there is such a thing as to-morrow, so
that must be important too."

"I can't do that," Julia said.

"You might try when you get to the top," he suggested. "I will try
then; I don't think I could do anything requiring an effort just now."

Julia agreed that she could not either, and they went on up straight
before them. It is as easy to climb a sand-hill in one place as in
another, provided you stick your feet in the right way, and do not
mind getting a good deal of sand in your boots. So they went straight,
and at last got clear of the taller trees, and were struggling in
thickets of young poplars, and other sinewy things. The sand was
firmer, but honeycombed with rabbit holes, and tangled with brambles,
and the direction was still upwards, though the growth was so thick,
and the ground so bad, that it was o