more open stretches; even stopping in one place to examine the curious veinings of the ivy-like leaves of a slender vine creeping over the moss of a huge boulder. He was conscious of examining it with interest; and yet it was a sort of wooden interest which seemed not to belong to the real man at all, but to be, rather, something extraneous and somewhat curious to observe. It was not until a cold wind struck him as he came around a sharp turn in the narrow trail, high up in the mountains, that he seemed to reassemble himself again and to look about and really sense his environment; and then for a moment he was dazed and bewildered by his surroundings. The trail which he had followed for all these miles had led him to the topmost ridge of the Kooalu mountain range, a mere knife-edge cutting the line between the windward and leeward sides of the Island. The turn in the trail had brought him out upon a narrow stretch which commanded both sides of the range; the sheer, rocky precipice, and far below the tapestry of varicolored green foot-hills, grey craters and sapphire blue sea, upon one hand; and upon the other, the heavily wooded steep slopes which dropped down into the Manoa Valley, more than two thousand feet below at this point, with the rice and taro fields, the gay gardens and homes, and the curving, dark roads, all sweeping out toward the brilliant, shimmering sea. From the ridge, at one side of him loomed the dark
