crossing over to the Ark trail and coming up that way. They had visited the Tufted Spruce and explored the many twisting trails on both sides of Mossy Brook, and they had gone down into Dingle Dell and swarmed up Inspiration Rock.
The friend had gone on his way, and the Mountain-Lover was alone again. One reason why he so constantly wandered off by himself was that most people in starting out very naturally wanted to get to some particular point—and the Mountain-Lover never cared whether he arrived or not. He liked best to set off with some destination only vaguely in his mind, and he loved to be free to change it as the fancy took him. Perhaps more often than not he found himself fulfilling the first half-formed intention, but he preferred to be untrammelled by the usual masculine desire to do a thing—of no particular importance, it might be—simply because one has announced that object. He was not without sympathy and understanding of those who liked to pursue a definite
