Tom Outland’s Story
made it possible for me to co-ordinate and simplify,
and that process, going on in my mind, brought with
it great happiness. It was possession. The excitement of my first discovery was a very pale feeling compared to this one. For me the mesa was no
longer an adventure, but a religious emotion. I had
read of filial piety in the Latin poets, and I knew
that was what I felt for this place. It had formerly
been mixed up with other motives; but now that they were gone, I had my happiness unalloyed.
What that night began lasted all summer. I stayed on the mesa until November. It was the first time I’d ever studied methodically, or intelligently. I got the better of the Spanish grammar and read the twelve books of the Æneid. I studied in the morning, and in the afternoon I worked at clearing away the mess the German had made in packing—tidying up the ruins to wait another hundred years, maybe, for the right explorer. I can scarcely hope that life will give me another summer like that one. It was my high tide. Every morning, when the sun’s rays first hit the mesa top, while the rest of the world was in shadow, I wakened with the feeling that I had found everything, instead of having lost everything. Nothing tired me. Up there alone, a close neighbour to the sun, I seemed to get the solar energy in some direct way. And at night, when I watched it drop down behind the edge of the plain below me, I used to feel that
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