they sat and
guzzled. Well, you're wrong, my son. Come, let's go down, and though I
don't know whether it'll mean anything to you, you shall have another
hack at Old Crow."

He was not easy until he had turned the key on the safety of the hut and
started down the hill. When they had rounded the curve made by the three
jutting firs, he stopped.

"Go on," he said. "I'll overtake you."

He ran back and slipped the key under the stone. It was a part of her
security to keep the secret from Dick also.

No more was said of Old Crow that day, but, in the early evening, when
they were before the fire, Raven brought down the book, always in the
drawer of the little table by his bed. It was, in an undefined way,
kindliness and company, always reminding him that, whatever his
undesirable status now, he had been "the boy," and this was his own
personal message from Old Crow.

"There you are," he said. He laid it on the table. "Don't read it unless
you'd really rather. It's meant a good deal to me. Maybe it won't to
you. I don't know much about the processes of your mind. You may feel at
home in this particular world. I never do. Old Crow didn't either. But
you'll see."

Dick began to read and, since Nan was not by to be loved and hated, with
an intent mind. Once or twice he turned back, Raven saw, to ponder some
passage again. It was slow reading. He had not the passionate haste of
one who has thirsted for some such community of assurance, and flies
over the ground, plucking a leaf here and there, meaning to return. When
he had finished he closed the book, laid it on the table, and pushed it
aside as if he had definitely done with it.

"Jackie," said he, "I'm mighty glad you showed me this."

"Good!" said Raven. "Got inside it, have you?"

"Why, yes," said Dick, with assurance. "That's easy enough. It isn't
new, you know. And it isn't so much my getting inside that as getting
inside Old Crow."

"Oh!" said Raven mildly, "so you got inside Old Crow. Now what did you
find there?"

"I don't know," said Dick, "whether you'd better be told. From a
psychopathic point of view, that is. But I rather guess you ought."

"Dick," said Raven, "in the name of all the gods you worship, what
shouldn't I be told? And exactly how do you see us two living along
here, mild as milk? What's our relation? Sometimes, when I find you
plodding after me, I feel as if you were my trainer. Sometimes I have a
suspicion I really am off my nut and y