XXXV
AND CLANGING CARS
He looked up into the darkness and waited. He would let her sleep a minute... there was little danger now. The city waited, over there, with its low lights; and the friendly night shut them in. Before the morning dawned he should bring her home—safe home.... A kind of simple pride held him, and his heart leaped a little to the stars and sang with them—as he squatted in the low grass, keeping guard.
Presently he leaned and touched her.
She started with a shiver and sprang up, rubbing her eyes and crying out, “I—had—a—dream—” she said softly—“a beautiful dream!” Then her eyes caught the stars and blinked to them—through dusty sleep—and she turned to him with swift cry, “You’re here!” she said. “It’s not a dream! It’s you!”
And Achilles laughed out. “We’re going home,” he said, “when you’re rested a little.”
“But I’m rested now!” she cried. “Come!” She sprang to her feet, and they journeyed again—through the night. About them, the plain breathed deep sleeping power—and the long road stretched from the west to the east and brought them home.
Each step, the city lights grew larger, and sparkled more, and spread apart farther, and a low rumble came creeping on the plain—jarring with swift jolts—the clang of cars and lifting life... and, in the distance, a line of light ran fire swiftly on the air, and darted, red and green, and trailed again in fire... and Achilles’s finger pointed to it. “That fire will take us home,” he said.
The child’s eye followed the flashing cars—and she smiled out. The first light of the city’s rim touched her face.