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And
her
ropes
are
taut
with
the
dew
,
For
we
're
booming
down
on
the
old
trail
,
our
own
trail
,
the
out
trail
,
We
're
sagging
south
on
the
Long
Trail
--
the
trail
that
is
always
new
.
'
"
"
Eh
,
Hump
?
How
's
it
strike
you
?
"
he
asked
,
after
the
due
pause
which
words
and
setting
demanded
.
I
looked
into
his
face
.
It
was
aglow
with
light
,
as
the
sea
itself
,
and
the
eyes
were
flashing
in
the
starshine
.
"
It
strikes
me
as
remarkable
,
to
say
the
least
,
that
you
should
show
enthusiasm
,
"
I
answered
coldly
.
"
Why
,
man
,
it
's
living
!
it
's
life
!
"
he
cried
.
"
Which
is
a
cheap
thing
and
without
value
.
"
I
flung
his
words
at
him
.
He
laughed
,
and
it
was
the
first
time
I
had
heard
honest
mirth
in
his
voice
.
"
Ah
,
I
can
not
get
you
to
understand
,
can
not
drive
it
into
your
head
,
what
a
thing
this
life
is
.
Of
course
life
is
valueless
,
except
to
itself
.
And
I
can
tell
you
that
my
life
is
pretty
valuable
just
now
--
to
myself
.
It
is
beyond
price
,
which
you
will
acknowledge
is
a
terrific
overrating
,
but
which
I
can
not
help
,
for
it
is
the
life
that
is
in
me
that
makes
the
rating
.
"
