nines' crests looked like battlements of ivory round about the citadel of God; already axes were ringing, and tree trunks were falling, on the wooded hillsides, shots were cracking over the still lagoons, and birds began to fly with shrill screams from bush and brake. In the distant plains the plough oxen were moving, white and slow, in long and level lines over the rich, moist red earth; amidst the herds of buffalo the rude buttero was riding to capture the young bull calves of the year. Countless flocks of sheep and goats came down from the far mountains, and chestnut forests of the north, and wended their way across the grasslands, the shepherd, and his women and children and dogs, dragging their tired limbs in their wake through the pale lilac of the blossoming meadow-mint. On the sea-shore the torpid villages were stirring under the autumnal winds as moles bestir themselves from slumber at the sounds of spring-time; tartanes were loading in the weedy, slimy ports, little lateen craft were home-coming or fitting out, and striped sails were shaking merrily in the rough breeze.
The days passed, and the weeks grew into months, and he became able to leave his
