The lad bit his lip. He made a hundred good resolutions. He would imitate Mr. Bons all the visit. He would not laugh, or run, or sing, or do any of the vulgar things that must have disgusted his new friends last time. He would be very careful to pronounce their names properly, and to remember who knew whom. Achilles did not know Tom Jones--at least, so Mr. Bons said. The Duchess of Malfi was older than Mrs. Gamp--at least, so Mr. Bons said. He would be self-conscious, reticent, and prim. He would never say he liked any one. Yet when the Wind flew up at a chance touch of his head, all these good resolutions went to the winds, for the omnibus had reached the summit of a moonlit hill, and there was the chasm, and there, across it, stood the old precipices, dreaming, with their feet in the everlasting river. He exclaimed, "The mountain! Listen to the new tune in the water! Look at the camp fires in the ravines," and Mr. Bons, after a hasty glance, retorted, "Water? Camp fires? Ridiculous rubbish. Hold your tongue. There is nothing at all." Yet, under his eyes, a rainbow formed, compounded not of sunlight and storm, but of moonlight and the spray of the river. The three horses put their feet upon it. He thought it the finest rainbow he had seen, but did not dare to say so, since Mr. Bons said that nothing was there. He leant out--the window had opened--and sang the tune that rose from the sleeping waters. "The prelude to Rhinegold?" said Mr. Bons suddenly. "Who taught you these _leit motifs_?" He, too, looked out of the window. Then he behaved very oddly. He gave a choking cry, and fell back on to the omnibus floor. He writhed and kicked. His face was green. "Does the bridge make you dizzy?" the boy asked. "Dizzy!" gasped Mr. Bons. "I want to go back. Tell the driver." But the driver shook his head. "We are nearly there," said the boy, "They are asleep. Shall I call? They will be so pleased to see you, for I have prepared them." Mr. Bons moaned. They moved over the lunar rainbow, which ever and ever broke away behind their wheels. How still the night was! Who would be sentry at the Gate? "I am coming," he shouted, again forgetting the hundred resolutions. "I am returning--I, the boy." "The boy is returning," cried a voice to other voices, who repeated, "The boy is returning." "I am bringing Mr. Bons with me." Silence. "I should have said Mr. Bons is bringing me with him." Profound silence. "Who stands sentry?" "Achilles." And on the rocky causeway, close to the springing of the rainbow bridge, he saw a young man who carried a wonderful shield. "Mr. Bons, it is Achilles, armed." "I want to go back," said Mr. Bons. The last fragment of the rainbow melted, the wheels sang upon the living rock, the door of the omnibus burst open. Out leapt the boy--he could not resist--and sprang to meet the warrior, who, stooping suddenly, caught him on his shield.