Wherever Jimmie walked, arrow-heads ran before.

In his sleep as in his copy-book, he saw endless chains of V's.

But not once could he catch up with the wheels that printed them.

A week later, just at sunset as he passed below Round Hill, he saw the stranger on top of it.

On the skyline, in silhouette against the sinking sun, he was as conspicuous as a flagstaff.