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As he gazed a large black bird floated upwards slowly from its depths, circled around the house with a few quick strokes of its wing, and then sped away a black bolt in one straight undeviating line towards the paling north. He still gazed into the abyss half expecting another, even fancying he heard the occasional stir and flutter of obscure life below, and the melancholy call of nightfowl.
The scent of the redolent grass of the great keg hung heavily upon the air and smelt sweet in his nostrils. He could see the ghostly outline of the distant peaks of the mountains, he could hear the haunting cries of nightfowl and coyote; but these things failed to interest him. Familiarity with the prairie made them, to him, commonplace. The path the secret of the great keg.
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