ing 'the
Shepherd,' and them at the sides being Toller and me."

"There were allus three on us in the hut," said Snarley, "and all three
were men as knowed what pain were. Both Toller and me was drinking out
o' 'the Shepherd's' cup, and he'd promised to stay by us till the last
drop was gone. 'It's full o' fury and wrath,' sez he; 'but it's got to
be drunk by them as wants to drive their flock among the stars. I've
gone before, and you're comin' after. When you've done this there'll be
no more like it. The next cup will be full o' wine, and we'll all three
drink it together.'"

In this wise did Snarley and Toller receive the Sacrament in their dark
and lonely den.

The night on which Snarley came home "like a man walking in his
sleep"--the last night of Toller's life--was wild, wet, and very dark.
With a lantern in one hand, a can of milk in the other, and a bag of
sticks on his back, the old man stumbled through the night until he
reached the last slope leading to Toller's hut. Here the lantern was
blown out, and Snarley, after depositing his burdens, sat down, dizzy
and faint, on a stone. In his pocket was an eight-ounce bottle,
containing a meagre sixpenn'orth of brandy for Shepherd Toller. Snarley
fingered the bottle, and then, with quick resolution, withdrew his hand.
"For the life o' me," he said, "I couldn't remember where I was. I felt
as though the hillside were whirlin' round, carryin' me with it. And
then I felt as though I were sinkin' into the ground. 'I'll never get
there this night,' I sez to myself. Just then I hears something movin',
and blessed if it wasn't Toller's old dog as had come to look for me. He
come jumpin' up and begins lickin' my face. Well, it put a bit o' heart
into me to feel the old dog. So I picks up the can and the bundle, and
off I goes again; and, though I wouldn't ha' believed it, it weren't
more than eighty yards, or a hundred at most, to the hut.

"When I come to the edge of the pit I sees a lantern burnin' near the
door, wonderful bright; and there were 'the Shepherd' sittin' on a
stone, same as I'd been doin' myself a minute before. As soon as he sees
me comin', he waves his lantern and calls out, 'Have a care, Snarley,
it's a steep and narrow road.' Well, the path down into the pit were as
slippery as ice, and I tell you I'd never ha' got down--at least, not
without breakin' some o' my bones--if 'the Shepherd' hadn't kep' showin'
me a light.

"So I comes up to where he w