Bab Bab 8 · WALTER WENDS THE WASTE

. WALTER WENDS THE WASTE

Day was yet young when he awoke: he leapt to his feet, and went down to

the stream and drank of its waters, and washed the night off him in a

pool thereof, and then set forth on his way again. When he had gone some

three hours, the road, which had been going up all the way, but somewhat

gently, grew steeper, and the bent on either side lowered, and lowered,

till it sank at last altogether, and then was he on a rough mountain-neck

with little grass, and no water; save that now and again was a soft place

with a flow amidst of it, and such places he must needs fetch a compass

about, lest he be mired. He gave himself but little rest, eating what he

needs must as he went. The day was bright and calm, so that the sun was

never hidden, and he steered by it due south. All that day he went, and

found no more change in that huge neck, save that whiles it was more and

whiles less steep. A little before nightfall he happened on a shallow

pool some twenty yards over; and he deemed it good to rest there, since

there was water for his avail, though he might have made somewhat more

out of the tail end of the day.

When dawn came again he awoke and arose, nor spent much time over his

breakfast; but pressed on all he might; and now he said to himself, that

whatsoever other peril were athwart his way, he was out of the danger of

the chase of his own folk.

All this while he had seen no four-footed beast, save now and again a

hill-fox, and once some outlandish kind of hare; and of fowl but very

few: a crow or two, a long-winged hawk, and twice an eagle high up aloft.

Again, the third night, he slept in the stony wilderness, which still led

him up and up. Only toward the end of the day, himseemed that it had

been less steep for a long while: otherwise nought was changed, on all

sides it was nought but the endless neck, wherefrom nought could be seen,

but some other part of itself. This fourth night withal he found no

water whereby he might rest, so that he awoke parched, and longing to

drink just when the dawn was at its coldest.

But on the fifth morrow the ground rose but little, and at last, when he

had been going wearily a long while, and now, hard on noontide, his

thirst grieved him sorely, he came on a spring welling out from under a

high rock, the water wherefrom trickled feebly away. So eager was he to

drink, that at first he heeded nought else; but when his thirst was fully

quenched his eyes caught sight of the stream which flowed from the well,

and he gave a shout, for lo! it was running south. Wherefore it was with

a merry heart that he went on, and as he went, came on more streams, all

running south or thereabouts. He hastened on all he might, but in

despite of all the speed he made, and that he felt the land now going

down southward, night overtook him in that same wilderness. Yet when he

stayed at last for sheer weariness, he lay down in what he deemed by the

moonlight to be a shallow valley, with a ridge at the southern end

thereof.

He slept long, and when he awoke the sun was high in the heavens, and

never was brighter or clearer morning on the earth than was that. He

arose and ate of what little was yet left him, and drank of the water of

a stream which he had followed the evening before, and beside which he

had laid him down; and then set forth again with no great hope to come on

new tidings that day. But yet when he was fairly afoot, himseemed that

there was something new in the air which he breathed, that was soft and

bore sweet scents home to him; whereas heretofore, and that especially

for the last three or four days, it had been harsh and void, like the

face of the desert itself.

So on he went, and presently was mounting the ridge aforesaid, and, as

oft happens when one climbs a steep place, he kept his eyes on the

ground, till he felt he was on the top of the ridge. Then he stopped to

take breath, and raised his head and looked, and lo! he was verily on the

brow of the great mountain-neck, and down below him was the hanging of

the great hill-slopes, which fell down, not slowly, as those he had been

those days a-mounting, but speedily enough, though with little of broken

places or sheer cliffs. But beyond this last of the desert there was

before him a lovely land of wooded hills, green plains, and little

valleys, stretching out far and wide, till it ended at last in great blue

mountains and white snowy peaks beyond them.

Then for very surprise of joy his spirit wavered, and he felt faint and

dizzy, so that he was fain to sit down a while and cover his face with

his hands. Presently he came to his sober mind again, and stood up and

looked forth keenly, and saw no sign of any dwelling of man. But he said

to himself that that might well be because the good and well-grassed land

was still so far off, and that he might yet look to find men and their

dwellings when he had left the mountain wilderness quite behind him: So

therewith he fell to going his ways down the mountain, and lost little

time therein, whereas he now had his livelihood to look to.