It was rather dark, but he knew the way well.

As he passed the rock from which the poor pigeon fell wounded with his arrow, a great joy filled his heart at the thought that he was delivered from the blood of the little bird, and he ran the next hundred yards at full speed up the hill.

Some dark shadows passed him: he did not even care to think what they were, but let them run.
When he reached home, he found his father and mother waiting supper for him..