triumphant ending, like a hero's death --
heroes who died young and gloriously. It was
a sudden transfiguration, a lifting-up of day.

How many an afternoon Antonia and I have
trailed along the prairie under that magnifi-
cence! And always two long black shadows
flitted before us or followed after, dark spots
on the ruddy grass.

We had been silent a long time, and the edge
of the sun sank nearer and nearer the prairie
floor, when we saw a figure moving on the edge
of the upland, a gun over his shoulder. He was
walking slowly, dragging his feet along as if
he had no purpose. We broke into a run to
overtake him.

"My papa sick all the time," Tony panted
as we flew. "He not look good, Jim."

As we neared Mr. Shimerda she shouted,
and he lifted his head and peered about. Tony
ran up to him, caught his hand and pressed
it against her cheek. She was the only one of
his family who could rouse the old man from
the torpor in which he seemed to live. He took
the bag from his belt and showed us three rab-
bits he had shot, looked at Antonia with a
wintry flicker of a smile and began to tell her
something. She turned to me.

[[45]]

p044 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p045w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p046

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