shores of Kaspüskoi More," replied Cutty, gravely. "The Caspian wouldn't be a healthy place for you now."
With wide eyes Hawksley stared across the shining, wavering roofs. A pause. "What do you know?" he asked, faintly.
"Everything. But wait!" Cutty fetched one of the photographs and laid it upon the young man's knees. "Know who this is—Two-Hawks?"
A strained, tense gesture as Hawksley seized the photograph; then his chin sank slowly to his chest. A moment later Cutty was profoundly astonished to see something sparkle on its way down the bed quilt. Tears!
"I'm sorry!" cried Cutty, troubled and embarrassed. "I'm terribly sorry! I should have had the decency to wait a day or two."
"On the contrary, thank you!" Hawksley flung up his head. "Nothing in all God's muddled world could be more timely—the face of my mother! I am not ashamed of these tears. I am not afraid to die. I am not even afraid to live. But all the things I loved—the familiar earth, the human beings, my dog—gone. I am alone."
"I'm sorry," repeated Cutty, a bit choked up. This was honest misery and it affected him deeply. He felt himself singularly drawn.
"I want to live. Because I am young? No. I want to prove to the shades of those who loved me
