Certain it is that we saw no more of him.
The stream flowing to the south, we went with it, hurrying along
its bank, beneath the shadow of great trees, with the stars gleaming
down through the branches. It was cold and still, and far in the
distance we heard wolves hunting. As for me, I felt no weariness.
Every sense was sharpened; my feet were light; the keen air was
like wine in the drinking; there was a star low in the south that
shone and beckoned. The leagues between my wife and me were
few. I saw her standing beneath the star, with a little purple flower
in her hand.
Suddenly, a bend in the stream hiding the star, I became aware that
Diccon was no longer keeping step with me, but had fallen
somewhat to the rear. I turned, and he was leaning heavily, with
drooping head, against the trunk of a tree.
"Art so worn as that?" I exclaimed. "Put more heart into thy heels,
man!"
He straightened himself and strode on beside me. "I don't know
what came over me for a minute," he answered. "The wolves are
loud to-night. I hope they'll keep to their side of the water."
A stone's throw farther on, the stream curving to the west, we left
it, and found ourselves in a sparsely wooded glade, with a bare and
sandy soil beneath our feet, and above, in the western sky, a
crescent moon. Again Diccon lagged behind, and presently I heard
him groan in the darkness.
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