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He could just see the sky through their stems. It was washed with the faintest of light, for the moon, far below, was yet climbing towards the horizon. A star or two sparkled where the clouds broke, but so little light was there, that, until he had passed the moorland on the hill, he could not get the horror of moss-holes, and deep springs covered with treacherous green, out of his head.
If they took action, it would be against him and not Jill. Somehow he felt better equipped to defend himself than Jill would be. He climbed. Again the world was completely normal, commonplace. There were mountain peaks on every hand. Some had been volcanoes originally, some had not. With each five hundred feet of climbing, he could see still more mountains. The sky was cloudless now.
They could be heard climbing into the wagons outside amid jest and laughter, and one conveyance after the other crunchingly got under way and rolled off along the high road ... "So they are coming back?" asked Tonio Kröger. "That they are," said the fish-dealer. "And God help us. They have ordered music, you must know, and I sleep right over the hall."
All four neighed gratefully, and set to work on the grass. "They've done a tremendous lot of mountain climbing, and they've carried heavy burdens," said Boyd, "and they're entitled to a long rest, long enough to heal up their sore feet and fill out their sides again.
Climbing the half completed embankment, he looked west, where through the clearing he could see the waters of Superior, then down stream to the tail of the rapids that roared half a mile further on. It came to him that nothing is so ugly as a well meant effort which has been left unfinished.
On the top of the hill was a village, in the midst of which stood a little old Gothic church with a gable-belfry, and hard by was a half-timber house, its porch aglow with climbing petunias. Beyond this village was a deep valley, the sides of which were covered with chestnut-trees.
Having secured four ropes and four ice-anchors, Bruce took two of the ropes and began climbing out on the right wing of the plane. His plan was to attach the ropes to the extremity of the wing, cast them down to the surface where he would anchor them later in each direction away from the tip of the wing.
"Rube's wise in his way," Kiddie meditated. "I guess he's having a sleep up there rather than risk his neck by climbing down that precipice in the dark. There's no moonlight deep down in the cañon. Quite right of him to wait until sunrise." Thus arguing, Kiddie entered the teepee, dropped the door-flap, and turned into his sleeping-bag. But he did not sleep.
Carol was conscious that Erik was climbing in, that she was apparently to sit in the back, and that she had been left to open the rear door for herself. Instantly the wonder which had flamed to the gusty skies was quenched, and she was Mrs. W. P. Kennicott of Gopher Prairie, riding in a squeaking old car, and likely to be lectured by her husband. She feared what Kennicott would say to Erik.
"I did not know what I was doing," resumed the young Italian, who, like many a clever foreigner, spoke more precise English than any Englishman; that, with an accent too delicate for written reproduction, alone would have betrayed him. "I still have very little recollection of what happened between my climbing out of our garden and dropping into theirs.
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