But the bright days came to an end; for Graeme, when once he was able
to go about, became anxious to get back to the camp. And so the last day
came, a day I remember well. It was a bright, crisp winter day.
The air was shimmering in the frosty light. The mountains, with their
shining heads piercing through light clouds into that wonderful blue of
the western sky, and their feet pushed into the pine masses, gazed down
upon Black Rock with calm, kindly looks on their old grey faces. How
one grows to love them, steadfast old friends! Far up among the pines
we could see the smoke of the engine at the works, and so still and so
clear was the mountain air that we could hear the puff of the steam, and
from far down the river the murmur of the rapids. The majestic silence,
the tender beauty, the peace, the loneliness, too, came stealing in upon
us, as we three, leaving Mrs. Mavor behind us, marched arm-in-arm down
the street. We had not gone far on our way, when Graeme, turning round,
stood a moment looking back, then waved his hand in farewell.
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