MARTIN MEETS WITH SAVAGES When, on waking next morning, Martin took his first peep over the grass, there, directly before him, loomed the great blue hills, or Sierras as they are called in that country.

He had often seen them, long ago in his distant home on clear mornings, when they had appeared like a blue cloud on the horizon.

He had even wished to get to them, to tread their beautiful blue summits that looked as if they would be soft to his feet--softer than the moist springy turf on the plain; but he wished it only as one wishes to get to some far-off impossible place--a white cloud, for instance, or the blue sky itself.

Now all at once he unexpectedly found himself near them, and the sight fired him with a new desire.

The level plain had nothing half so enchanting as the cloud-like blue airy hills, and very soon he was up on his feet and hurrying towards them.