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"
Well
,
"
said
Linda
,
as
they
turned
away
,
"
all
I
can
say
is
,
it
does
seem
a
lot
of
fuss
to
make
about
so
little
.
In
civilized
countries
,
when
a
boy
wants
to
have
a
girl
,
he
just
.
.
.
But
where
are
you
going
,
John
?
"
He
paid
no
attention
to
her
calling
,
but
ran
on
,
away
,
away
,
anywhere
to
be
by
himself
.
It
is
finished
Old
Mitsima
’
s
words
repeated
themselves
in
his
mind
.
Finished
,
finished
.
.
.
In
silence
and
from
a
long
way
off
,
but
violently
,
desperately
,
hopelessly
,
he
had
loved
Kiakimé
.
And
now
it
was
finished
.
He
was
sixteen
.
At
the
full
moon
,
in
the
Antelope
Kiva
,
secrets
would
be
told
,
secrets
would
be
done
and
borne
.
They
would
go
down
,
boys
,
into
the
kiva
and
come
out
again
,
men
.
The
boys
were
all
afraid
and
at
the
same
time
impatient
.
And
at
last
it
was
the
day
.
The
sun
went
down
,
the
moon
rose
.
He
went
with
the
others
.
Men
were
standing
,
dark
,
at
the
entrance
to
the
kiva
;
the
ladder
went
down
into
the
red
lighted
depths
.
Already
the
leading
boys
had
begun
to
climb
down
.
Suddenly
,
one
of
the
men
stepped
forward
,
caught
him
by
the
arm
,
and
pulled
him
out
of
the
ranks
.
He
broke
free
and
dodged
back
into
his
place
among
the
others
.
This
time
the
man
struck
him
,
pulled
his
hair
.
"
Not
for
you
,
white
-
hair
!
"
"
Not
for
the
son
of
the
she
-
dog
,
"
said
one
of
the
other
men
.
The
boys
laughed
.
"
Go
!
"
And
as
he
still
hovered
on
the
fringes
of
the
group
,
"
Go
!
"
the
men
shouted
again
.
One
of
them
bent
down
,
took
a
stone
,
threw
it
.
"
Go
,
go
,
go
!
"
There
was
a
shower
of
stones
.
Bleeding
,
he
ran
away
into
the
darkness
.
From
the
red
-
lit
kiva
came
the
noise
of
singing
.
The
last
of
the
boys
had
climbed
down
the
ladder
.
He
was
all
alone
.
All
alone
,
outside
the
pueblo
,
on
the
bare
plain
of
the
mesa
.
The
rock
was
like
bleached
bones
in
the
moonlight
.
Down
in
the
valley
,
the
coyotes
were
howling
at
the
moon
.
The
bruises
hurt
him
,
the
cuts
were
still
bleeding
;
but
it
was
not
for
pain
that
he
sobbed
;
it
was
because
he
was
all
alone
,
because
he
had
been
driven
out
,
alone
,
into
this
skeleton
world
of
rocks
and
moonlight
.
At
the
edge
of
the
precipice
he
sat
down
.
The
moon
was
behind
him
;
he
looked
down
into
the
black
shadow
of
the
mesa
,
into
the
black
shadow
of
death
.
He
had
only
to
take
one
step
,
one
little
jump
.
.
.
.
He
held
out
his
right
hand
in
the
moonlight
.
From
the
cut
on
his
wrist
the
blood
was
still
oozing
.
Every
few
seconds
a
drop
fell
,
dark
,
almost
colourless
in
the
dead
light
.
Drop
,
drop
,
drop
.
To
-
morrow
and
to
-
morrow
and
to
-
morrow
.
.
.
He
had
discovered
Time
and
Death
and
God
.
"
Alone
,
always
alone
,
"
the
young
man
was
saying
.
The
words
awoke
a
plaintive
echo
in
Bernard
’
s
mind
.
Alone
,
alone
.
.
.
"
So
am
I
,
"
he
said
,
on
a
gush
of
confidingness
.
"
Terribly
alone
.
"
