plan—and he was quite willing they should have that pleasure; only, not with him.
"With previous intentions I have nothing whatever to do," he liked to say largely to himself when he suddenly swerved from his first plan if some unexpected enticement offered itself. This was his playtime.
He betook himself to the Monte Rosa trail this morning, loitering along until he should hear the call of some special path. The way above the spring was this morning edged with the strange lapis-lazuli blue of Clintonia berries with their dull richness of color. He took the trail to the Tooth when he came to the branching of the paths. Every path was so intensely characteristic! If he had been dropped on any of them blindfolded he thought he could tell almost unerringly when he opened his eyes, just where he was. To newcomers or to casual observers, it might be that all paths looked alike; narrow, almost imperceptible tracks, winding among trees, jutting rocks on one side or the other, moss, Clintonia berries or bunch-
