Page:Laughing Boy-1929.djvu/300

heaibhcids emitter a Ba 288 ) LAUGHING Bov He was alone in more than the physical sense. No one, not even Jesting Squaw’s Son, could come near him. All his life, wherever he was, however long he lived, he would remain alone. It would always be like this. The one companionship in the world had gone; when the sun has been destroyed for a man, what comfort is there in a world of moonlight? He had nothing to do in the cafion save tend his fire and think. He would get hold of a thought, work it over and over until he lost all sense of proportion towards it, and finally put it in a phrase or a simile, so that it obtained substance and could not be dismissed. He hated to watch it grow dark; he felt afraid of the night. He did not want to be shut into that little space of firelight with all the things he was thinking. Alone, alone, all life alone, all life carry- ing this pain inside himself. He might as well die. But she wanted him to live. It was the third night, and he was approaching the stage of vi- sions. Outlines of things dimly seen in the star- light changed and assumed startling forms. He became the audience listening to unseen people arguing as to whether he ought to kill himself or not. He knew he ought to live, but he could not control which side might win. He couldn’t always follow very well what was