Vuk could swim well, but he was already exhausted before he had emerged from the forest of rushes and grasses. It was a long, long way to the moon in the lake, and in a little time his strokes became feeble and there was only just enough movement in his arms to keep him afloat. Turning himself on his back, he rested. All deep desire had gone from his mind. Weary, he wished for oblivion. The moon was at the bottom of the lake, waiting. He had only just to sink now where he was, and slowly, very slowly, but oh! how safely and inevitably, he would go to her.
He began to sink and to be smothered.... After a time he reappeared, feebly struggling. The dog snatched at and missed him. Vuk sank again. And after that Vuk’s body, remaining, for how long I know not, midway between the water’s surface and the lake’s bottom, was never again seen.
The dog swam in ever-widening circles round the spot where the Moon Man had disappeared until he, also, sank, perhaps joining the only friend he had ever known.
HOW HIS FRIENDS DESTROYED HIM
To
Olive Warnock
TO Harry Bruton it seemed an eternity before the little steamer, Caucase, was berthed, the gangways placed in position, and the passengers allowed to disembark on the quay at Le Pirée. For nearly half an hour he had been standing on the quay-side shouting inanities to his friend Dick Cassels who, clad in flannels, a straw hat, and a lemon-coloured tie, stood grinning on the deck and failing to catch a word that was called to him.
“Had a good time?” shouted Bruton.