the Babylonians? It is an ancient blindness, with an ancient wall
to bruise one's head. It is only those who seek ointment of the
consecrated clay that gives back sight, who see the shining way
at their feet, who beat their face against no wall, who safely
climb the heights. Henry van Cortlandt was a man of rare parts,
of every advantage, but still he had been taught steadfastly to
live in the past. His eyes were yet to be opened. The living
present was not his -- but yet to be.

The young lawyer had been assembling his outfit at Vandam's
warehouse, for, in spite of scoffing friends, he knew that Rolf
was coming back to him.

When Rolf saw the pile of stuff that was gathered for that
outfit, he stared at it aghast, then looked at Vandam, and
together they roared. There was everything for light housekeeping
and heavy doctoring, even chairs, a wash stand, a mirror, a
mortar, and a pestle. Six canoes could scarcely have carried the
lot.

"'Tain't so much the young man as his mother," explained Big
Pete; "at first I tried to make 'em understand, but it was no
use; so I says, 'All right, go ahead, as long as there's room in
the warehouse.' I reckon I'll set on the fence and have some fun
seein' Rolf ontangle the affair."

"Phew, pheeeww -- ph-e-e-e-e-w," was all Rolf could say in
answer. But at last, "Wall, there's always a way. I sized him up
as pretty level headed. We'll see."