Step by step the bag had grown heavier, and hour by hour the insistent, teasing pain in his side had increased until now it was a torture.

He had forgotten that the way to the valley was so long; he had not realized how nearly spent was his strength before he even started down the trail.

Throbbing through his brain was the question, what if, after all, he could not--but even to himself he would not say the words.
At noon they paused for luncheon, and at night they camped where the chattering brook had stopped to rest in a still, black pool.

The next morning the man and the boy picked up the trail again, but without the bag.

Under some leaves in a little hollow, the man had hidden the bag, and had then said, as if casually:-- "I believe, after all, I won't carry this along.