came to the glen mouth. The moon was high. He heard faint sounds of
the far night-time, and his own step upon the silver earth. He came to
the glen and the sound of water streaming to the sea.

How well he knew this place! Thick trees spread arms above, rock that
leaned darkened the narrow path. But his foot knew where to tread. In
some more open span down poured the twice-broken light; then came
darkness. There was a great checkering of light and darkness and the
slumbrous sound of water. The path grew steeper and rougher. He was
approaching the middle of the place.

At last he came to the cave mouth and the leafless briers that
curtained it. Just before it was reached, the moonbeams struck through
clear air. There was a silver lightness. A form moved from where it
had rested against the rock. Ian's voice spoke.

"Alexander?"

"Yes, it is I."

"The night is so still. I heard you coming a long way off. I have
lighted a fire in the cave."

They entered it--the old boyhood haunt. All the air was moted for them
with memories. Ian had made the fire and had laid fagots for mending.
The flame played and murmured and reddened the walls. The roof was
high, and at one place the light smoke made hidden exit. It was dead
night. Even in the daytime the glen was a solitary place.

Alexander put down his cloak. He looked about the place, then,
squarely turning, looked at Ian. Long time had passed since they had
spoken each to other in Rome. Now they stood in that ancient haunt
where the very making of the fire sang of the old always-done,
never-to-be-omitted, here in the cave. The light was sufficient for
each to study the other's face. Alexander spoke:

"You have changed."

"And you. Let us sit down. There is much that I want to say."

They sat, and again it was as they used to do, with the fire between
them, but out of plane, so that they might fully view each other. The
cave kept stillness. Subtly and silently its walls became penetrable.
They crumbled, dissolved. Around now was space and the two were men.

Ian looked worn, with a lined face. But the old brown-gold splendor,
though dusked over, drew yet. No one might feel him negligible. And
something was there, quivering in the dusk.... He and Alexander rested
without speech--or rather about them whirled inaudible speech--
intuitions, divinations. At last words formed themselves. Ian spoke:

"I came from France on the chance that you were here.... For a long
time