The
coming years would pass as quickly, leaving as little behind. Never so
poignantly had he felt the insistence of the _carpe diem_. It was
necessary that he find a reality, something he could winnow from the
years as fine gold from sand, so that he could lay his hand on the
treasure and say to his soul: "This much have I accomplished." Bob had
learned well the American lesson: that the idler is to be scorned; that
a true man must use his powers, must work; that he must _succeed_. Now
he was taking the next step spiritually. How does a man really use his
powers? What is success?
Troubled by this spiritual unrest, the analysis of which, even the
nature of which was still beyond him, he arrived at camp. The familiar
objects fretted on his mood. For the moment all the grateful feeling of
power over understanding and manipulating this complicated machinery of
industry had left him. He saw only the wheel in which these activities
turned, and himself bound to it. In this truly Buddhistic frame of mind
he returned to his quarters.
There, to his vague annoyance, he found Baker. Usually the liveliness of
that able young citizen was welcome, but to-night it grated.
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