After such disquieting contacts, the more uncomfortable in that they
defied analysis, Bob rode out to the last lookout and gazed abroad over
the land. The pineclad bluff fell away nearly four thousand feet. Below
him the country lay spread like a relief map--valley, lesser ranges,
foothills, far-off plain, the green of trees, the brown of grass and
harvest, the blue of glimpsed water, the haze of heat and great
distance, the thread-like gossamer of roads, the half-guessed shimmer of
towns and cities in the mirage of summer, all the opulence of earth and
the business of human activity. Millions dwelt in that haze, and beyond
them, across the curve of the earth, hundreds of millions more, each
actuated by its own selfishness or charity, by its own conception of the
things nearest it. Not one in a multitude saw or cared beyond the
immediate, nor bothered his head with what it all meant, or whether it
meant anything. Bob, sitting on his motionless horse high up there in
the world, elevated above it all, in an isolation of pines, close under
his sky, bent his ear to the imagined faint humming of the spheres.
Affairs went on. The machine fulfilled its function. All things had
their place, the evil as well as the good, the waste as well as the
building, balancing like the governor of an engine the opposition of
forces. He saw, by the soft flooding of light, rather than by any flash
of insight, that were the shortsightedness, the indifference, the
ignorance, the crass selfishness to be eliminated before yet the world's
work was done, the energies of men, running too easily, would outstrip
the development of the Plan, as a machine "races" without its load. A
humility came to him. His not to judge his fellows by the mere externals
of their deeds. He could only act honestly according to what he saw, as
he hoped others were doing.
"Just so a man isn't _mean_, I don't know as I have any right to despise
him," he summed it all up to his horse. "But," he added cheerfully,
"that doesn't prevent my kicking him into the paths of righteousness if
he tries to steal my watch."
The sun dipped toward the heat haze of the plains. It was from a golden
world that Bob turned at last to ride through the forest to the
cheerfulness of his rude camp.
VIII
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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