In the late afternoon, the child ceased his play on the mountain with his flocks and his dogs. Part of the battle had whirled very near to the base of his hill, and the noise was great. Sometimes he could see fantastic smoky shapes which resembled the curious figures in which one sees on the of a rough sea. The plain indeed was etched in white circles and whirligigs like the slope of a wave. The child took seat on a stone and the fight. He was beginning to be astonished; he had never before seen cattle with such . Lines of flame flashed out here and there. It was mystery.  
Finally, without any preliminary indication, he began to weep. If the men struggling on the plain had had time and greater vision, they could have seen this strange tiny figure seated on a , surveying them while the tears streamed. It was as simple as some powerful symbol.
 
As the magic clear light of day amid the mountains dimmed the distances, and the plain shone as a blue cloth marked by the red threads of the firing, the child arose and moved off to the unwelcoming door of his home. He called softly for his mother, and complained of his hunger in the familiar formula. The pearl-coloured cow, grinding her thoughtfully, stared at him with her large eyes. The peaceful gloom of evening was slowly draping the hil............