He at least was climbing heights where he had never been before.
Up there in the eternal snows it was lonely but bracing. He was putting on an armour of ice. Clothed thus, knew that nothing could hurt him. He could bear all things, conquer all men.
Once at that time Mr. Pigott met him in Old Town.
"Ern," he said, eyeing the other curiously, "I've got a job for you in my yard, if you like it. What about it?"
"No, sir," answered Ernie, almost aggressively. "I'm going to stick where I am."
"No offence anyway," growled the other, striding huffily on his way.... "I might have been insulting him instead of trying to help him," the aggrieved man reported to Mr. Trupp later.
"Yes," said the Doctor. "He's under the Lash again. I see that. And he's growing because of it. Men do—if they are men. If they aren't they just break."
"You and your Lash," grumbled the other. "There are other stimulants in the world."
Mr. Trupp pursed his lips.
"Perhaps," he grinned. "But none so effective."