The path was climbing again now and the horses were finding the going very difficult. It was steeper even than the path through the village. They seemed to be climbing the mountain to the very top. In fact it was not long before the path disappeared altogether and the man said they should leave the horses and go the rest of the way on foot. Neil thought of the funeral procession and tried to visualize men carrying the bier with that huge man and all those heavy weapons up that rocky way. But looking back at the view Neil knew why the Wolfhound had chosen this place for his final rest. It was as though all the world was at his feet, mountains behind mountains, green valleys behind green valleys, distant plains, all dissolving into blue mists with the obscurity of the horizon. It was a place
