Even so, those days were long. The books he had read many, many times. Sometimes the clay would turn brittle under the morning sun, sometimes his fingers forgot what cunning they had, sometimes black thought fell upon him and held him till he felt a vague despair. He stood within the threshold of manhood. Who was he? What was life? Was this life? About him men married and begat children, goats begat goats, cattle begat cattle, one day begat another. Lewis sat with hands locked about his knees and stared across the low hills out into the wide plain. "The Bible is wrong," he breathed to himself. "The world will never, never end." Little do we know when our present world will end. A day came when Dom Francisco, the cattle king, whose herds by popular account were as the sands of the desert, asked in marriage the hand of Natalie. As, toward evening, Lewis headed his flock for home, he saw in the distance a pillar of dust. It came rapidly to him. From it emerged Natalie on her pony. She jumped down, slipped the reins over her arm, and joined him. "You have come far and fast," he said, glancing at the sweating pony. "Is anything the matter?" "No," said Natalie, hesitatingly, and then repeated--"no. I've just come to talk to you." For some time they walked in silence behind the great herd of nervous goats, which occasionally stopped to pasture, but more often scampered ahead till a call from Lewis checked them. Natalie laid her hand on the sleeve of Lewis's leather coat, a gesture with which she was wont to claim his close attention. "Lew," she said, "what is marriage?" Lewis turned and looked down at her. They were both seventeen, but his inch start of her had grown to half a foot. "Marriage? Why, marriage----" He stopped. A faint color flared in his cheeks. He looked away from her. Then he said calmly: "Marriage, Nat, is just mating--like birds mate. First you see them flying about anyhow; then two fly together. They build a nest; they mate; they have little birds. The little birds grow up and do the whole thing over again. That's--that's marriage." "So?" said Natalie. A little frown came to her brows. Was that marriage, indeed? Then she shook the frown from her. "Lew," she said gravely, but placidly, "they tell me I'm to marry Dom Francisco. Isn't it--isn't it _funny_?" Lewis stopped in his tracks and shook her hand from his arm. His eyes flared. "What did you say? They tell you--_who_ told you?" "Why, Lew!" cried Natalie, tears in her eyes and her lips twitching. "There, there, Nat," said Lewis, softly. He laid his arm across her shoulders in an awkward gesture of affection. "Tell me, Nat. Who was it told you--told you that?" "Father," sobbed Natalie. Before she knew what he was doing, Lew had leaped upon her pony and was off at a gallop. "Lew!" cried Natalie, "Lew! Shall I bring in the goats?" He did not heed her. CHAPTER IX