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LavcHING Boy 291 a been a fool, that he should have avoided all this. And he thought, in answer, that it was too late now, why couldn’t he be left alone? He tried to explain to himself, to the old man, that he couldn’t have helped doing what he did. He him- self, as a third person, repeated that all the suffer- ing was worth while for the happy months, but the old man only sneered. He tried to get himself in hand, and think of a new design for a belt, but that was useless. He would walk around for a long time without looking for wood at all. Pick- ing up his pony's tracks, he followed them out into the main cafion until he saw the horse in a sheltered place under the east wall, then, realizing how far he had gone from the place of vigil, hurried back. Everything had gone to pieces, he did everything wrong. The old man had waited for him, he was triumphant over this breach of observance. Nightfall was at least a change. Having plenty of wood, he built the fire up high, and went to some trouble to make himself comfortable. This was the fourth night, he was more or less out of his head. The old man had long ceased to be a personification and become a reality; he got in under the same blanket and hammered, ham- mered at him about the unfortunate past. Laugh- ing Boy saw an empty, drifting future, always