aystacks turned rosy and
threw long shadows. The whole prairie was like the bush that burned
with fire and was not consumed. That hour always had the exultation
of victory, of 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 magnificence! 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 rabbits he had shot, looked at Antonia with a
wintry flicker of a smile and began to tell her something. She turned to
me.

'My tatinek make me little hat with the skins, little hat for winter!'
she exclaimed joyfully. 'Meat for eat, skin for hat'--she told off these
benefits on her fingers.

Her father put his hand on her hair, but she caught his wrist and lifted
it carefully away, talking to him rapidly. I heard the name of old Hata.
He untied the handkerchief, separated her hair with his fingers, and
stood looking down at the green insect. When it began to chirp faintly,
he listened as if it were a beautiful sound.

I picked up the gun he had dropped; a queer piece from the old country,
short and heavy, with a stag's head on the cock. When he saw me
examining it, he turned to me with his far-away look that always made
me feel as if I were down at the bottom of a well. He spoke kindly and
gravely, and Antonia translated:

'My tatinek say when you are big boy, he give you his gun. Very fine,
from Bohemie. It was belong to a great man, very rich, like what you not
got here; many fields, many forests, many big house. My papa play for
his wedding, and he give my papa fine gun, and my papa give you.'

I was glad that this project was one of futurity. There