emn covenant, is it not?"

"Yes," said my father, "and may all good omens attend it!"

The words were not out of his mouth before a mountain bird, something
like our jackdaw, but smaller and of a bluer black, flew out of the
hollow mouth of one of the statues, and with a hearty chuckle perched on
the ground at his feet, attracted doubtless by the scraps of food that
were lying about. With the fearlessness of birds in that country, it
looked up at him and George, gave another hearty chuckle, and flew back
to its statue with the largest fragment it could find.

They settled that this was an omen so propitious that they could part in
good hope. "Let us finish the wine," said my father, "and then, do what
must be done!"

They finished the wine to each other's good health; George drank also to
mine, and said he hoped my father would bring me with him, while my
father drank to Yram, the Mayor, their children, Mrs. Humdrum, and above
all to Mrs. Humdrum's grand-daughter. They then re-packed all that could
be taken away; my father rolled his rug to his liking, slung it over his
shoulder, gripped George's hand, and said, "My dearest boy, when we have
each turned our backs upon one another, let us walk our several ways as
fast as we can, and try not to look behind us."

So saying he loosed his grip of George's hand, bared his head, lowered
it, and turned away.

George burst into tears, and followed him after he had gone two paces; he
threw his arms round him, hugged him, kissed him on his lips, cheeks, and
forehead, and then turning round, strode full speed towards Sunch'ston.
My father never took his eyes off him till he was out of sight, but the
boy did not look round. When he could see him no more, my father with
faltering gait, and feeling as though a prop had suddenly been taken from
under him, began to follow the stream down towards his old camp.

CHAPTER XXVI: MY FATHER REACHES HOME, AND DIES NOT LONG AFTERWARDS

My father could walk but slowly, for George's boots had blistered his
feet, and it seemed to him that the river-bed, of which he caught
glimpses now and again, never got any nearer; but all things come to an
end, and by seven o'clock on the night of Tuesday, he was on the spot
which he had left on the preceding Friday morning. Three entire days had
intervened, but he felt that something, he knew not what, had seized him,
and that whereas before these three days life had been one thing, what
li