grasped him by his shirt of goatskin and plucked him from the ground.
'Shelter! There is no shelter for leagues round!' he screamed, and strove to cast himself again upon his face.
She dragged him up by sheer superior strength.
'There is shelter,' she said. 'Follow me, and make the flock follow you.'
Deafened and blinded by the hurricane and the dust-storm, she managed to keep her feet, and reach the aperture that she had covered; she tore away the brambles and boughs till the stone steps were laid bare; then by force of will and force of limb together dragged the little shepherd down with her whilst she called his beasts. More sagacious than he, with a headlong rush the goats descended into the refuge, while the storm which for one instant had lulled broke out afresh with increased violence.
Musa, with the goats around her, stood in the warrior's tomb. Zefferino was trembling and white with terror; he had fallen on his knees.
'Oh, you coward!' she cried, with boundless scorn; she, the daughter of Saturnino, had no fear in her.
