You've a beautiful work to do; and one can't do one's work on a mountain-top." "Why not?
I like it here, and I've always been here." "Not always, David; six years.

You were four when I brought you here.
You don't remember, perhaps." David shook his head.

His eyes were again dreamily fixed on the sky.
"I think I'd like it--to go--if I could sail away on that little cloud-boat up there," he murmured.
The man sighed and shook his head.
"We can't go on cloud-boats.

We must walk, David, for a way--and we must go soon--soon," he added feverishly.

"I must get you back--back among friends, before--" He rose unsteadily, and tried to walk erect.