So Clare went once more into the street, where Abdiel was again watching for him, and stood on the pavement, not knowing which way to turn. The big policeman had told him that no one there would give him work after what had happened; and now, therefore, he was only waiting for a direction to present itself. In a moment it occurred to him that, having come in at one end of the town, he had better go out at the other. He followed the suggestion, and Abdiel followed him--his head hanging and his tail also, for the joy of recovering his master had used up all the remnant of wag there was in his clock. He had no more frolic or scamper in him now than when Clare first saw him. How the poor thing had subsisted during the last few days, it were hard to tell. It was much that he had escaped death from ill-usage. Meanest of wretches are the boys or men that turn like grim death upon the helpless. Except they change their way, helplessness will overtake them like a thief, and they will look for some one to deliver them and find none. Traitors to those whom it is their duty to protect, they will one day find themselves in yet more pitiful plight than ever were they. But I fear they will not believe it before their fate has them by the throat. Clare saw that the dog was famished. He stopped at a butcher’s and bought him a scrap of meat for a penny. Then he had elevenpence with which to begin the world afresh, and was not hungry. Out on the highway they went, in a perfect English summer day, with all the world before them. It was not an oyster for Clare to open with sword, pen, or _sesame_; but he might find a place on the outside of it for all that, and a way over it into a better--one that he _could_ open and get at the heart of. The sun shone as on the day of the earthquake--deep in Clare’s dimmest memorial cavern;--shone as if he knew, come what might, that all was well; that if he shone his heart out and went dark, nothing would go wrong; while, for the present, everything depended on his shining his glorious best. “Come along, Abdiel,” said Clare; “we’re going to see what comes next. At the worst, you know what hunger is, doggie, and that a good deal of it can be borne pretty well--though I’m not fond of it any more than you, doggie! We’ll not beg till we’re downright forced, and we won’t steal. When that’s the next thing, we’ll just sit down, wag our tails, and die.--There!” He gave him the last piece of his meat, and they trudged on for some time without speaking.