Then there fell a silence between us. Gran'fer's mind was back in the past, and I was groping blindly in the mists of wonder and supposition. There was a reason, then, for the complex, warring nature of the Dryad. How I longed to know the whole truth! But I could go no further here. It was a painful subject, a guarded secret to the old man sitting humped over by my side, and for the time I must hold my curiosity in check. The revelation would come. I was determined to learn the story, one way or another, though from what source I could not remotely guess. Gran'fer's customary garrulity had deserted him; he even forgot to spit in the water. When my pipe burned out I did not refill. I know both of us were oppressed, were quieted by the thought of this great wrong which had been inflicted nearly a score of years ago. So the creeping shadows came upon us, and beyond the high western spur the sky glowed salmon, and gold, and mauve. I heard a screech-owl's sudden chatter, and a crazy bat wheeled in a wide curve just in front of us. The surface of the creek grew leaden hued, and the mighty Harp of the Ancient Wood thrilled gently in response to the low twilight breeze. Gran'fer stirred, and got stiffly to his feet. I did the same. Somehow I felt awed. Out here creation seemed so immense, so _recent_, that it was hard to believe the trail of the serpent had passed over this spot, too. We turned in silence and went back to the road. From down Hebron way came the sound of singing. Not blatantly loud and shrill, but very mellow and rich-toned. It was a woman's voice. A change had come over me, and I did not want to meet her again just then. She would have marked the difference. I turned and held out my hand. Gran'fer took it and gave it a mighty squeeze. His eyes were wet, and his face looked pained. As I came down the ladder at the other end of the bridge I glanced across at him. He was standing where I left him, gazing down the road up which the girl was coming, with that song of light-hearted, carefree youth upon her lips. I moved away, quickly. CHAPTER FIFTEEN IN WHICH THE HISTORIAN UNBLUSHINGLY SHOWS HIMSELF TO BE A HUMAN I have spent all of this day on the bench under the lone pine.