“Why not all of us go away just as we are?” Hairi suggested. “The Trog-woman can ride on Wulli’s neck.”
“You are wasting breath,” snorted the Rhinoceros. “He has chosen his home and will not leave it until once more the cold winds come. When the woman has strayed away and the calf has learned to shift for itself, he will join us; but not now.”
Plucked From Its Mother’s Arms and Whirled Aloft
Pic heard; and in his eyes glittered a strange light which the Rhinoceros would not have understood, even had he seen. Wulli erred, otherwise he would not have been a Rhinoceros. In a moment, Pic had lowered the infant into its mother’s outstretched arms and was descending to the ground.
“Now you know why I cannot go with you,” he said to the two animals. “This is my home, my family and the work I like best. But when you return, here you will find me, not merely after the one change of season—but always; and always will you be my good friends and welcome. Here I must stay and although we must part for the time being, it is farewell until we meet again.”
Hairi made as though to remonstrate but there was something in Pic’s voice and manner that made him and the Rhinoceros hold their peace and say no more. He bowed his head and strode to the edge of the rock-platform, followed closely by his woolly associate. Before beginning the descent, both turned and looked back to where Pic still stood with arm pointing up the valley.
“Farewell until we meet again,” three voices murmured in solemn chorus, and then the two animals carefully descended the slope and set off side by side across the meadows. The great lumbering strides of the Mammoth contrasted strangely with the bobbing trot of his smaller companion. Suddenly as though actuated by a common impulse, both halted and gazed back long and earnestly at the now distant heights of Moustier.