d shoal, rowed and shot and
climbed the mountains. He fell in with the Wanita and her people very
often. One evening--it was Thursday, the twentieth--he was in the
village of Ti, and walked out with his cigar, alone. He strolled
up the road to the high levels and walked on. The moon was high and
bright, and the country about him surpassingly peaceful and beautiful
under the white sheen. He came at last to the old fort and wandered
through the ruins, ghostly and weird in the calm moonlight. A flock
of sheep was lying under the trembling old walls. "Peace and war,"
he muttered to himself, and leaned against a crumbling wall a little
while, looking at the dreamy picture. He got up on the old ramparts
and picked his way out till he stood on the outermost point of the
star, where the massive wall stands almost as solid as when the
Frenchmen built it a century and a half ago. This outer angle of the
fort rises sheer from the edge of the perpendicular cliff whose foot
is washed by the waters of the lake.

Field sat down on the stones with his feet hanging over, and looked
down and around. The still, bright water, the hills bright and black
in light or shadow, and the serene sky made a scene exceedingly solemn
and impressive. Below, in the sombre shadow of the cliff, Field heard
the faint, musical bubble of the water among the rocks, and a sheep
bleated once behind the ruined fort: those were the only sounds. He
dropped the end of his cigar, and watched the spark till it went out
suddenly far down.

The scene very naturally reminded him of his friend. Down there they
had rowed together--twice was it, or three times? Strange that he had
forgotten already, but it seemed a long time since. Below this wall on
the left they had stood the first day they were here, and chipped bits
of mortar and stone for mementoes. He remembered how Phil had hunted
the whole place for a flower without finding one--he wondered whether
it was for any one in particular that he had wanted it so much. Yes,
it seemed an age since that day, and how everything had changed! Under
the cliff there to the left--he could not see it, but he knew it
was there--was the little wooden wharf where he had parted from Phil
between night and morning. And he wished to God he had gone home with
him.

He heard a crunching sound behind him, and looked round sharply.
Then he turned and got up on his feet, and stood with his back to
the precipice. The long fellow stood in t