MY PEOPLE
“Indeed to goodness now, how will you know him when he comes?”
“Sure me, I won't miss him.”
The angel came towards the close of a day. Eben saw him, and greeting him with a wave of the hand, he hurried to Penrhos.
“Simon bach,” he said, “do you now lend me your old pickaxe and shovel.”
“Man, man,” replied Simon, “foolish you are to begin a job this time of the night.”
“He may not come this way again,” answered Eben.
Eben hastened over the heather to the place where Old Shaci’s hut was. Taking off his coat and his waistcoat, and loosening his braces, he dug a hole in the ground, a hole deep as a grave and of the shape of a coffin. In the darkness he stood over the open grave, his coat buttoned, india-rubber cuffs on his wrists, his hair, wet with perspiration, thrown back over his head.
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