"For, see!" she says; "at night it is the red smoke of the mountain
--all night! it is the light in the tower--all night! it is himself in
the tower--all night--all day! He speaks not. Is it not so? The
ground shivers. He says nothing. It is the magic. Ah-h-h! The magic!"
Craney grew so well and restless after a week or two that he began
strolling, and finally one day he went down the path that Titiaca
came by. For she said there was a village, and, beyond other villages
and cocoa plantations, fishermen along the shore, many people, though
only footpaths ran through the woods. Her gossip lacked variety, and
the little black monkey took no interest in me at all. It appeared to
me things were unnatural dull, and I went to the tower and called.
The keeper answered, and I went up, and hoped I wasn't in his way.
The middle story was like the one below, except for a table, chair,
bed, and a few plain articles.
"On the contrary," he says, "if you will do me the honour to
precede," and motioned to the stair leading to the lantern story,
which was roofed, but open on all sides, and along the seaward wall
was a stone bench.
It's good, now and then, as a man lives on, if something or some one
comes along that gives him a new notion of things.
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