"On the rocks!" Peter repeated; "where?"

"Yonder," said the young man, indicating the direction; "come, I will

show you the exact spot."

He led the way to his rocky bed, near one end of the plateau, then

watched his companion's movements as he knelt down and carefully

inspected the rock, then, rising to his feet, looked searchingly in

every direction with his ferret-like glance.

"Ah!" the latter suddenly exclaimed, with emphasis, at the same time

pointing to a rock almost overhanging their heads.

Following the direction indicated, the young man saw a pine-tree on the

edge of the overhanging rock, the entire length of its trunk split open,

its branches shrivelled and blackened as though by fire.

Peter, notwithstanding his age, sprang up the rocks with the agility of

a panther, the younger man following more slowly. As he came up Peter

turned from an examination of the dead tree and looked at him

significantly.

"An electric shock!" he said; "that was a living tree yesterday. There

was an electric storm last night, the worst in years; it brought death

to the tree, but life to you."

To the younger man the words of the old hermit seemed incredible, but

that night brought him a strange confirmation of their truth. Upon

disrobing for the night, what was his astonishment to discover upon his

right shoulder and extending downward diagonally across the right breast

a long, blue mark of irregular, zigzag form, while running parallel with

it its entire length, perfect as though done in India ink with an

artist's pen, was the outline of the very scene surrounding him where he

lay that morning--cliff and crag and mountain peak--traced indelibly

upon the living flesh, an indubitable evidence of the power which had

finally aroused his dormant faculties and a souvenir of the lost years

which he would carry with him to his dying day.




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