they now, so
ought they to be, so will they be, world without end; and it doesn't
concern us what they are. Amen." There were men to whom not only kopjes
and stones were calling out imperatively, "What are we, and how came
we here? Understand us, and know us;" but to whom even the old, old
relations between man and man, and the customs of the ages called, and
could not be made still and forgotten.

The boy's heavy body quivered with excitement. So he was not alone, not
alone. He could not quite have told any one why he was so glad, and
this warmth had come to him. His cheeks were burning. No wonder that
Bonaparte called in vain, and Doss put his paws on the ladder, and
whined till three-quarters of an hour had passed. At last the boy put
the book in his breast and buttoned it tightly to him. He took up the
salt pot, and went to the top of the ladder. Bonaparte, with his hands
folded under his coat-tails, looked up when he appeared, and accosted
him.

"You've been rather a long time up there, my lad," he said, as the
boy descended with a tremulous haste, most unlike his ordinary slow
movements. "You didn't hear me calling, I suppose?"

Bonaparte whisked the tails of his coat up and down as he looked at him.
He, Bonaparte Blenkins, had eyes which were very far-seeing. He looked
at the pot. It was rather a small pot to have taken three-quarters of
an hour in the filling. He looked at the face. It was flushed. And yet,
Tant Sannie kept no wine--he had not been drinking; his eyes were
wide open and bright--he had not been sleeping; there was no girl up
there--he had not been making love. Bonaparte looked at him sagaciously.
What would account for the marvellous change in the boy coming down the
ladder from the boy going up the ladder? One thing there was. Did not
Tant Sannie keep in the loft bultongs, and nice smoked sausages? There
must be something nice to eat up there! Aha! that was it!

Bonaparte was so interested in carrying out this chain of inductive
reasoning that he quite forgot to have his boots blacked.

He watched the boy shuffle off with the salt-pot under his arm; then
he stood in his doorway and raised his eyes to the quiet blue sky, and
audibly propounded this riddle to himself:

"What is the connection between the naked back of a certain boy with a
greatcoat on and a salt-pot under his arm, and the tip of a horsewhip?
Answer: No connection at present, but there will be soon."

Bonaparte was so please