in a terror of apprehension? I could not see it that way. I believed that
I should be trembling with a furious excitement, stirred to the very
depths by so inspiring and adventurous a miracle. I had forsaken my
speculation and was indulging in the philosophical reflection that a real
and quite unaccountable miracle, the more universal the better, would be
the most splendid justification of life I could possibly conceive, when
the whistler began again, only a few yards away from me.

I could just see him now, sitting propped against the trunk of another
tree, but I waited until he had finished what I chose to believe was the
third verse of his lyric before I hailed him. It came to me that I might
test his quality by continuing the play in proper form, so when he paused,
I went on with the speech of the "host" which immediately follows the song
in "The Two Gentlemen of Verona."

"How now?" I said. "Are you sadder than you were before?"

He did not move, not even to turn his head towards me, and I inferred that
he was aware of my presence before I spoke.

"You, one of the search party?" he asked.

I went over and sat down by him. I felt that the situation was
sufficiently fantastic to permit of free speech. I did not know who he was
and I did not care. I only knew that I wanted to deliver myself of the
dreams my lack of sleep had robbed from me.

"The only one," I said, "unless you also belong to the very small and
select party of searchers."