codicil which hung up the fortunes of the
moon-going Thunder Bird for twelve long
years.

"He--he was wearing the same gray
cap!" was the next cleaving flash of
memory.

He was not really wearing it now. It
bobbed in the rill beside him.

As one eye turned feverishly towards
it, the third thunder clap of perception
came in the staggering sense of how like
he was to Una.

She might have been his daughter--Una
-with that little fixed star of feeling
set like a shining pebble now in her
right, fascinated eye, reflected, exaggerated
in the glazed cast of pain in the stone-gray
eye of the man beneath her, whose
climber's suit of homespun was daubed
with mountain mud,--whose tweed cap
was the brooklet's toy.

He had been trying to scoop up water
in it.

And that brought Pemrose Lorry, Camp
[[264]]

p263 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p264w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p265

v?