She called it the "Cannon Ball," because once upon a time it had made sixty-nine miles in twenty-four hours.

But there was nothing of humor about it as Jolly Roger and Peter came out upon it tonight.

It stretched out both ways from them, a thin, grim line of tragedy in the moonlight, and from where they stood it appeared to reach into a black and abysmal sea.
Once more man and dog paused, and looked back at what had been.

And the whine came in Peter's throat again and something tugged inside him, urging him to bark up into the face of the moon, as he had often barked for Nada in the days of his puppyhood, and afterward.
But his master went on and Peter followed him, stepping the uneven ties one by one.

And with the black chaos of the world under and about them, and the glorious light of the moon filling; the sky over their heads, the journey they made seemed weirdly unreal.