"Ah, I didn't think it was so late. But I know it can't be long now, fer I'm slippin' away fast."
Then he looked at Constance and noticed the tears in her eyes.
"Don't cry, lassie. I'm only an old man, an' ain't wuth the fuss."
He was soon away again, this time a child, back in his old home.
"Mother, are ye thar? Bring the light, mother, an' hold me hand while I say me prayers."
He fumbled over the blanket, as if expecting the loving pressure as of old. At once Constance bent over him and took his cold, rough hand in her own. He grasped it firmly, while a look of contentment stole into his face.
"Now, kiss me, mother. I'm very tired, an' want to go to sleep."
Gently as a mother Constance stooped low, and as her lips touched his bronzed forehead he started suddenly up.
"The trail! The shinin' trail!" he cried. "How bright it is! an' ... oh, I see..."
The little clock in the room struck midnight, and the watchers looked at each other in silence.