Books do not tell everything." "No," said the boy, slowly drawing nearer to her and sitting down at her feet.

"What you want to know they never tell." Then the children fell into silence, till Doss, the dog, growing uneasy at its long continuance, sniffed at one and the other, and his master broke forth suddenly: "If they could talk, if they could tell us now!" he said, moving his hand out over the surrounding objects--"then we would know something.
This kopje, if it could tell us how it came here! The 'Physical Geography' says," he went on most rapidly and confusedly, "that what were dry lands now were once lakes; and what I think is this--these low hills were once the shores of a lake; this kopje is some of the stones that were at the bottom, rolled together by the water.

But there is this--How did the water come to make one heap here alone, in the centre of the plain ?" It was a ponderous question; no one volunteered an answer.

"When I was little," said the boy, "I always looked at it and wondered, and I thought a great giant was buried under it.

Now I know the water must have done it; but how?
It is very wonderful.