painted in the ruts of the road that slanted up the hill past
the Hopkins house. It must be late afternoon.

He wondered, were Raoul and his men out there somewhere, looking for
him? Would he live to see another nightfall?

His head ached less than it had last night--until he touched it. Then
the pain was like someone pounding a nail into his brain. The bump felt
as big as a hen's egg.

Opening his backpack, he took out his leather medicine bag and drew out
the stones one by one, rubbing his fingers over each. He opened his
shirt and touched the tip of the bear's claw to the five scars on his
chest.

Then, on impulse, he touched it to the old scar on his cheek.

A black leather bag contained his surgical instruments--two saws, a big
one for legs and a smaller one for arms; four scalpels; lancets for
bleeding; a turnkey for pulling teeth; a probe and tongs for removing
bullets; a small jar of opium. Any of those things might be needed,
where he was going.

Last, he took out a book, chosen almost at random from his small
collection. On the spine of its brown leather cover was stamped in gold:
"J. Milton. _Paradise Lost_."

Reverend Hale had recommended that he take a Bible. This long poem
giving the Christian account of creation was the next thing to a Bible.
But he had read it at St. George's and enjoyed it. And its title and its
story of Adam and Eve being driven out of the Garden of Eden made him
think of how he was dispossessed. Perhaps he would find some wisdom or
guidance in the book.

Today he thought, _Paradise lost? It may be that I'm returning to
paradise._

But then he remembered how Nancy had wanted to "know" him as Adam knew
Eve. He _was_ leaving behind what might have been a great happiness.

He opened the book and read the first verse his eye fell upon:

High on a Throne of Royal State, which far
Outshone the wealth of _Ormus_ and of _Ind_,
Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand
Show'rs on her Kings _Barbaric_ Pearl and Gold,
Satan exalted sat ...

Sounded like Raoul, with his fifty Spanish dollars and his steamboat and
lead mine and trading post. Raoul was better fitted to be Satan than to
be the angel at the gates of Eden keeping sinners away.

He heard voices nearby. One, faint but unmistakable, was Grandpapa's.
His heart leaped. He quickly repacked his treasures.

He pushed the curtain aside and hurried across the hall. It was a joy to
see Elysee's eyes looki