ed Gertrud, who for
some reason never would admit she wanted feeding.

'Oh she is,' I sighed; and again we trudged on in silence.

It seemed a long while before we reached that edge over which my bandbox
had disappeared flashing farewell as it went, and when we did get to it
and eagerly looked along the fresh stretch of road in hopes of seeing
August miraculously turned back, we gave a simultaneous groan, for it
was as deserted as the one we had just come along. Something lay in the
middle of it a few yards on, a dark object like a little heap of brown
leaves. Thinking it was leaves I saw no reason for comment; but Gertrud,
whose eyes are very sharp, exclaimed.

'What, do you see August?' I cried.

'No, no--but there in the road--the tea-basket!'

It was indeed the tea-basket, shaken out as it naturally would be on the
removal of the bodies that had kept it in its place, come to us like the
ravens of old to give us strength and sustenance.

'It still contains food,' said Gertrud, hurrying towards it.

'Thank heaven,' said I.

We dragged it out of the road to the grass at the side, and Gertrud lit
the spirit-lamp and warmed what was left in the teapot of the tea. It
was of an awful blackness. No water was to be got near, and we dared not
leave the road to look for any in case August should come back. There
were some sorry pieces of cake, one or two chicken sandwiches grown
unaccountably horrible, and all those strawberries we had avoided at
lunch because they were too small or two much squashed. Over these
mournful revels the church spire of Casnewitz, now come much closer,
presided; it was the silent witness of how honourably we shared, and how
Gertrud got the odd sandwich because of her cashmere boots.

Then we buried the tea-basket in a ditch, in a bed of long grass and
cow-parsley, for it was plain that I could not ask Gertrud, who could
hardly walk as it was, to carry it, and it was equally plain that I
could not carry it myself, for it was as mysteriously heavy as other
tea-baskets and in size very nearly as big as I am. So we buried it, not
without some natural regrets and a dim feeling that we were flying in
the face of Providence, and there it is, I suppose, grown very rusty, to
this day.

After that Gertrud got along a little better, and my thoughts being no
longer concentrated on food I could think out what was best to be done.
The result was that on reaching Casnewitz we inquired at once which of