Abe Pike straightened himself and looked round at the drab veld, the grey hills, and the dark of the kloof where the forest trees were massed. Then he rested his hands on the handle of his stamper, and, so standing, gazed with a vacant expression before him, and watching him I seemed to see a long line of shadowy reflections of him, standing so with the same fixed look fastened on the empty veld. The hollow booming of the great waves solemnly breaking in endless succession alone broke the heavy silence. "Did ever anything come out of the sea, Abe?" I asked, idly, as I gazed, like him, in a sort of spell, scarcely knowing what I meant. "A many things," said he, without moving. "Yes, sonny," he continued, after a long pause; "a many, many things. When the evenin' wind comes off the sea, and I been a-sittin' outside the door, listenin' to the waves and the different voices of 'em all blendin', with now and ag'in a mighty bass note from the biggest of the seven brothers, as he rolled his shining crest--I've seed things come over the randt yonder, seed 'em come an' melt away, often an' often." "What things?" "All manner o' things, sonny; but I allow you won't see 'em, as you ain't had the trainin'. Night after night, year in year out, you must sit alone listenin' in the stillness, and maybe you'll year the voices I year an' see what I see. But you couldn't go through it--no, sonny! I bin frightened many a time so that I've got up and fetched the gun to make a noise--yes, that's so; for there's some things you can't see, only feel, an' they hard to bear. I seed a little boy once. Maybe he was young Abe Pike afore I knew him. A little chap with brown legs an' curly hair an' big eyes. He came drifting over the randt outer the sea, when its waves was jes' murmuring sof and low, and I yeard him laugh as I watched him come, thinking he were a wild fowl. He lighted over there where that railed-in moss is a-growin'--see how green it is in the dry of the yearth. That's where his little naked feet touched the ground, and where he stood eyeing me with his big eyes and a sort o' dew on his forehead where the curls came down. Then he laughed, and with his head on one side he came up to my knee an' looked up at me. Yes, a little chap; an' he came outer the sea to ole Abe Pike, sitting lonely out there on the door-step. Maybe if I'd a married I might a' had a son like that, for he seemed to b'long to me, as he eyed me with a smile. Only onct he came, only onct; but, sonny, I feel the touch of his hands now, an' by that touch I know I will meet him ag'in. He may a bin young Abe afore I knew him come back to see what I'd made o' him, an' but for the smile on his face I'd think he were grieved to see what a blamed failure I'd made outer him. Many a time I watched for him. Yes, sonny; I've sat in the quiet of the afternoon, listenin' to the sea, and when I year the murmuring same as then I look for that little chap to come