hither, alone; I may not attend thee. Now, let us pile the
stones."

Silently the huntsman bent his vast strength to the fragments of
rock that Morven pointed to him, and they built the altar, and
went their way.


And beautiful is the dying of the great sum when the last song
of the birds fades into the lap of silence; when the islands of
the cloud are bathed in light, and the first star springs up
over the grave of day.


"Whither leadest thou my steps, my brother?" said Gina; "and why
doth thy lip quiver? and why dost thou tarn away thy face?"

"Is not the forest beautiful; doth it not tempt us forth, my
sister?"

"And wherefore are those heaps of stone piled together?"

"Let others answer; _I_ piled them not."

"Thou tremblest brother: we will return."

"Not so; by those stones is a bird that my shaft pierced to-day;
a bird of beautiful plumage that I slew for thee."

"We are by the pile: where hast thou laid the bird?"