"You mean my body? No."
"See. There below us is the Atlantic, lit by the moonrise."
"So it is. Then we've been nearly round the earth. What an immense adventure!"
"And yet you grudge your father this adventure?"
"Oh, but he's dying."
"Dying into a bigger adventure than ours, in bigger and more splendid worlds. Do you grudge him that? Shame on you!"
He saw America lift above the sky line, and presently the Gulf of St. Lawrence narrowed to the river. There was the citadel of Quebec, yonder his native Montreal, the familiar maple trees, the garden, the old house with its green shutters, the open windows. "See," said Rain, "I leave you now. My dear man, Storm, is waiting, to take you to your father."
The night was hot and the windows thrown wide open, the moonlight falling through the maples cast the shadows of their delicately pointed leaves, like dark stars, on the floor and on the white bed where old Monroe lay dying.
"'For this my son,'" he said in his dream, "was dead, and is alive again, was lost, and is found. It's been such a long time, Doggie. I'm frightened, too, although you needn't tell my brother officers."
"What is it makes you frightened, sir?" asked Rising Wolf.