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And they went on, side by side, their minds full of dim memories of home. They saw the fields, the hedges, the forests, and beaches. Each time they stopped near a large stone on the edge of the private estate, because it reminded them of the dolmen of Locneuven.
Then, too, they would always stop beside a certain landmark, a great stone, because it looked something like the cromlech at Locneuven. Every Sunday on arriving at the first clump of trees Luc le Ganidec would cut a switch, a hazel switch, and begin gently to peel off the bark, thinking meanwhile of the folk at home. Jean Kerderen carried the provisions.
And they went on, side by side, their minds full of dim memories of home. They saw the fields, the hedges, the forests, and beaches. Each time they stopped near a large stone on the edge of the private estate, because it reminded them of the dolmen of Locneuven.
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