Alton gravely glanced about him, and the girl fancied she understood
him as she followed his gaze from snowpeak down the great pine-shrouded
hillside to the river frothing in the valley. "I don't know, but one
feels there's something beyond all that," he said. "It didn't come
there by accident, and it has all its work to do. Sun and frost and
sliding snow grinding up the hillside very sure and slow, and the river
sweeping what it gets from them way down the valley to spread new
wheatfields out into the sea."

"But," said Miss Deringham, smiling, "we are speaking of men, and I
don't quite see the connection."

"Well," said Alton, "they have their place in the great machine too,
and must work like the rest, and do something to make it more fruitful,
in return for the food the good earth gives them."

"A good many men don't seem to realize the obligation," said Miss
Deringham.

Alton nodded. "No, but I can't help thinking they'll be dealt with
somehow. They're just stealing from the others."

"You are a socialist, then?"

"No," said Alton, "I don't think I am. It seems to me that every man
is entitled to all the dollars he can get by working for them honestly,
and there's a place somewhere in this great world for him, if he has
the grit to get up and look for it as he was meant to do, but it has no
use for the man who wants to sit still and think about his dinner while
other folks work for him."