toward it. All day long
Shenton kept his somber eyes fixed upon it. Toward evening he raised his
face to his mother's. She leaned over him.

"Mother," he whispered, "I should like to reach the mountain."

Tears welled from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She held
Shenton's curly head against her face so that he could not see. She
stifled a sob and whispered back:

"My boy, you will reach the mountain."

The next day a man of the country joined them. He was dressed in a suit
and hat of deerskin. On his feet were sandals. Across one shoulder he
carried a stick from which dangled a bundle. His quick, springy stride
carried him easily beside the cavalcade.

"The blessing of God be upon your Mercies," was his greeting. "Whence do
you come and whither do you go? Tell him who so rudely asks, I beg you.
I am John, the Courier."

Ann and the Reverend Orme looked vaguely at each other. They had no
answer. But Shenton spoke.

"Friend," he said, "we come from the South. We journey to yonder
mountain. What is it called?

"It is called the Sorcerer."

"The Sorcerer?" cried Shenton. "That is a strange-name."

"It is called the Sorcerer," said the man, "because it deceives. It is a
landmark in the wilderness, but it shows no man the way. So equal are
its sides, that it points neither east nor west nor south nor north.
Upon, its summit is a single tree, planted by no human hands."

"I see the tree," said Shenton. "Mother, do you see the tree? It is like
the steeple on a church." Then he turned to the courier. "Friend, the
mountain points upward."

They camped at the foot of the mountain, for fever had laid its final
grip upon Shenton. He was too weak to stand the jolting of the wagon.
One night, while lying in his mother's arms, he slipped away from life.

Leighton looked upon his boy's face, still alight with content at having
reached the mountain, upon his white, blue-veined body, so pitifully
frail, and marveled that a frame so weak, so tender, so peaceful, had
been only now a mighty battle-field.

He gathered up the body in his arms, and calling roughly to Lewis to
bring an ax, he started up the barren mountainside.

Ann, dumb and tearless, stood before the tent, and watched him with
unseeing eyes. Natalie, crying, clutched her skirt. At her feet sat
mammy, her face upturned, tears flowing, her body swaying to her sobs.

Up and up climbed Leighton with Lewis panting behind him. They reached
the towering su