The blond cornfields were red gold, the haystacks turned rosy and threw
long shadows. The whole prairie was like the bush that burned with fire
and was not consumed. That hour always had the exultation of victory, of
triumphant ending, like a hero's death--heroes who died young and
gloriously. It was a sudden transfiguration, a lifting-up of day.

How many an afternoon Antonia and I have trailed along the prairie under
that magnificence! And always two long black shadows flitted before us or
followed after, dark spots on the ruddy grass.

We had been silent a long time, and the edge of the sun sank nearer and
nearer the prairie floor, when we saw a figure moving on the edge of the
upland, a gun over his shoulder. He was walking slowly, dragging his feet
along as if he had no purpose. We broke into a run to overtake him.

`My papa sick all the time,' Tony panted as we flew. `He not look good,
Jim.'

As we neared Mr. Shimerda she shouted, and he lifted his head and peered
about. Tony ran up to him, caught his hand and pressed it against her
cheek. She was the only one of his family who could rouse the old man from
the torpor in which he seemed to live. He took the bag from his belt and
showed us three rabbits he had shot, looked at Antonia with a wintry
flicker of a smile and began to tell her something. She turned to me.

`My tatinek make me little hat with the skins, little hat for winter!' she
exclaimed joyfully. `Meat for eat, skin for hat'--she told off these
benefits on her fingers.

Her father put his hand on her hair, but she caught his wrist and lifted it