He had doubtless fallen a long way down
a cliff and had been almost crushed on the stones. But the
lesson was lost on Jack; he would have it that where rabbits
and foxes went he could go!
After all, the chief pleasure those blank bad days had for me
was the thought that Jack was as happy as he could well be.
But it was not enough to satisfy me, and by and by it came
into my mind that I had been long enough at that place. It
was hard to leave Jack, who had put himself so entirely in my
hands, and trusted me so implicitly. But - the weather was
keeping very bad: was there ever known such a June as this of
1907? So wet and windy and cold! Then, too, the bloom had
gone from the furze. It was, I remembered, to witness this
chief loveliness that I came. Looking on the wide moor and
far-off boulder-strewn hills and seeing how rusty the bushes
were, I quoted -
The bloom has gone, and with the bloom go I,
and early in the morning, with all my belongings on my back, I
stole softly forth, glancing apprehensively in the direction
of the kennel, and out on to the windy road.
