It was certain that the bull no longer regarded him with either fear or apprehension, and he wanted to be liked.
It was nearly noon when he reached his summit, and as he was warm from exercise he sat down on a rock, staying there a long time and scouring the horizon now and then through the glasses.

The sea was a circle of blazing blue, and the light wind sang from the southwest.
He had brought food with him and in the middle of the day he ate it.
With nothing in particular to do he thought he would spend the afternoon there, and, making himself comfortable, he waited, still taking occasional glances through the glasses.

While he sat, idling more than anything else, his mind became occupied with Tayoga's theory of spirits in the air--less a theory however than the religious belief of the Indians.
He wanted to believe that Tayoga was right, and his imagination was so vivid and intense that what he wished to believe he usually ended by believing.

He shut his eyes and tested his power of evocation.

He knew that he could create feeling in any part of his body merely by concentrating his mind upon that particular part of it and by continuing to think of it.