Now the great pines rising row and row from the hollow pointed heavenwards with all their sombre spires, and led the eye upwards ever over the rock that lost its greyness and glinted to the gleam of snow far up in the empyrean that was sundered from earth by the vapours and wholly spiritual.

Alton realized dimly a little of the motive of the scene, and felt that the world was good, for, laying down the frypan, he stood up stretching his arms above his head as he rejoiced in the strength of his vigorous manhood.

Still, like most of the bushmen, he did not express his feelings in speech.
"Charley, you'll be slow for your wedding.

Turn out, the pork's done," he said.
They lost no time, but they did not eat in haste, and Alton glanced at Seaforth when the meal was done.

"You'll stop right here, Charley, by the tent," he said.