from her bare arms. He was
conscious that some fear had made her eyes round and bright. What was it
that the child feared? He guessed, and marvelled that a child should
understand the strange thing that was about to happen up there on the
hill. The knowledge of Death was shining instinctively in the child's
eyes. She was part of the stillness and greyness that was creeping over
the hillside.

"We will take the white goat to the shelter of the stable," the Herd
said.

The child nodded, the fear still lingering in her eyes. He untied the
tether and laid his hand on the horn of the goat. She answered to the
touch, walking patiently but unsteadily beside him.

After a while the child followed, taking the other horn, gently, like
her father, for she had all his understanding of and nearness to the
dumb animals of the fields. They came slowly and silently. The light
failed rapidly as they came down the hill. Everything was merged in a
shadowy vagueness, the colour of the white goat between the two dim
figures alone proclaiming itself. A kid bleated somewhere in the
distance. It was the cry of a young thing for its suckle, and the Herd
saw that for a moment the white goat raised her head, the instinct of
her nature moving her. Then she tottered down the hill in the darkness.

When they reached the front of the stable the white goat backed
painfully from the place. The Herd was puzzled for a moment. Then he saw
the little pool of water in a faint glimmer before their feet. He
brought the animal to one side, avoiding it, and she followed the
pressure of his directing hand.

He took down a lantern that swung from the rafters of the stable and
lighted it. In a corner he made a bed of fresh straw. The animal leaned
over a little against the wall, and they knew she was grateful for the
shelter and the support. Then the head began to sway in a weary rhythm
from side to side as if the pain drove it on. Her breath quickened,
broke into little pants. He noted the thin vapour that steamed from
about her body. The Herd laid his hand on her snout. It was dry and red
hot. He turned away leading the child by the hand, the lantern swinging
from the other, throwing long yellow streaks of light about the gloom of
the stable. He closed the door softly behind him.

II

It was late that night when the Herd got back from his rounds of the
pastures. His boots soaked in the wet ground and the clothes clung to
his limbs, for the rain had c