On and on, running blindly when he could run at all.

At least, the wind-kings were company.

He had been so long alone.

He could remember no home that had ever been his since he was a little child, neither father nor mother, no one who belonged to him or to whom he belonged, except one cousin, an old man who was dead.

For a day his dreams had found in a girl's eyes the precious thing that is called home--oh, the wild fancy! He laughed aloud.
There was a startling answer; a lance of living fire hurled from the sky, riving the fields before his eyes, while crash on crash of artillery numbed his ears.