A couple of blows on one of his sharp points roused Dublin from his reverie. With a lurch to the right and another to the left he started, and presently the little funeral disappeared down the road that led to the 'town' and its cemetery.
About six months afterwards Tom Hopkins went on a short journey, and returned with a tall, bearded young man. He and Tom arrived after dark, and went straight to Mason's hut. There was a light inside, but when Tom knocked there was no answer.
'Go in; don't be afraid,' he said to his companion.
The stranger pushed open the creaking door, and stood bareheaded just inside the doorway.
A billy was boiling unheeded on the fire. Mason sat at the table with his face buried in his arms.
'Father!'
There was no answer, but the flickering of the firelight made the stranger think he could detect am impatient shrug in Mason's shoulders.
For a moment the stranger paused irresolute, and then stepping up to the table he laid his hand on Mason's arm, and said gently:
'Father! Do you want another mate?'
But the sleeper did not at least, not in this world.
