CANNOT walk up this hill," said the little boy. "I cannot
possibly do it. What will become of me? I must stay here
all my life, at the foot of the hill:
it is too terrible!"
"That is a pity!" said his sister. "But
look, little boy! I have found such a pleasant thing
to play. Take a step, and see how clear a footprint
you can make in the dust. Look at mine! every single line in
my foot is printed clear. Now, do you try, and see if
you can do as well!"
The little boy took a step.
"Mine is just as clear!" he said.
"Do you think so?" said his sister. "See mine, again here!
I tread harder than you, because I am heavier, and so the
print is deeper. Try again."
 "Now mine is just as deep!" cried the little boy. "See!
here, and here, and here, they are just as deep as they
"Yes, that is very well," said his sister; "but now it is my
turn; let me try again, and we shall see."
They kept on, step by step, matching their footprints, and
laughing to see the gray dust puff up between their
By and by the little boy looked up.
"Why!" he said, "we are at the top of the hill!"
"Dear me!" said his sister. "So we are!"