"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.