“The guides who were seeking Martin Steele have come down from the mountain.”
“Have they found him?”
There was a silence. It was Floyd this time who cried with a rush of repentant agony:
“Martin! I killed him! I am a murderer!”
“No! he himself was responsible. He met the fate of the rash. A man must know the precipices and how to avoid them before he tries to climb.”
Again came the cry from Floyd:
“I shot to kill! I shot to kill!”
“The guides followed his traces up the mountain; there were signs that told a human thing had passed. He must have gone over at the first plateau. They went down as far as they dared. There were broken branches; the violence of the fall tore up a young tree with its roots. Come with me, I will show you where he struck the trail. There was madness upon him, his senses wandered, the inevitable happened.”
They stood in the quiet woods and looked up at the wall of stone where Martin had said, “I will climb that mountain.”