At last he grew almost used to the dumb exultation of the cliff above him.

He saw that Roderick was a mass of hideous injury, and he tried to understand what had happened.

Not that it helped him; before that confounding mortality one hypothesis after another faltered and swooned away.

Roderick's passionate walk had carried him farther and higher than he knew; he had outstayed, supposably, the first menace of the storm, and perhaps even found a defiant entertainment in watching it.

Perhaps he had simply lost himself.