Shortly after midnight the storm's intensity doubled. Thunder boomed overhead like a cannon, lightning sheeted
and crackled over the headlands, and the rain drove sideways on the wind, spattering heavily on the hut's outer rock
wall. Neb and Den lay asleep in the old lifeboat. Luis kept watch by the door, holding it half open against the
elements with one foot. Bleating piteously, the sheep flattened themselves against the ground. A hard gust of wind
slammed the door shut. Luis winced, rubbing his foot where the door timbers had cracked against his ankle. He leaned
forward, thrusting the door open again.
The wind had torn the pen down. The flock were loose. Den's bark, close to Neb's ear, roused him into
wakefulness. Luis was grabbing his crookstaff from its hanger, pulling his coat about him and shouting.
"Hurry, friend. The pen is destroyed, our sheep are running. I'll turn them from the cliffs. You save the ewes and
get them inside the hut here. Vamos!"
The old shepherd ran out and was soon lost to sight in the rainswept darkness. Den was ahead of Neb as he
struggled into his poncho and dashed outside. The next hour was an onslaught of furious activity. A stray ewe charged
right into Neb, knocking him flat and winding him. The boy hung grimly on to the bleating creature and dragged it by
one ear and its tail across the pasture and into the hut. Den was already back with two ewes he had driven before him.
One was already giving birth at the back of the hut; the other lay against the keel of the lifeboat maaahing for all it
was worth. Shaking rainwater from his coat, Den trotted past Neb, communicating a hasty thought.
"Stay here with them, help them as Luis showed you. I'll find Luis and bring him back here with the other
ewes!" The boy set about putting water to heat on the fire; he gathered as many clean flour sacks as he could find.
Turning his attention to the ewe in the far corner, Neb found she had already delivered herself of a lamb and was
licking the little creature. Both mother and babe appeared to be getting along quite well, so he went after the ewe he
had brought in. It panicked, staggering upright and leading him on a chase around the hut. He tripped over the third
ewe as it came from beneath the lifeboat. The one he was chasing butted the door and fled outside. The boy dashed
out, stopped momentarily, then, ignoring the ewe, ran for the cliffs with his dog's urgent call ringing through his
brain!
"Neb, Neb, Luis has fallen over the cliff!" The Labrador was barking aloud, looking over the cliff edge as Neb
hurried up and threw himself flat at the rim of the plateau. About twenty feet below him, he could barely make out
Luis, lying on a ledge. The old shepherd had a ewe in his arms; both were lying still. Neb sent Den back to the hut for
a rope, then he climbed down the slippery rock, clawing at any niche he could get his freezing fingers into. Sliding
and stumbling, he reached the ledge. Lifting the old man's head carefully, he laid it in his lap and murmured anxiously.
"Luis, old friend, are you hurt? Speak to me, Luis!"
Slowly opening one eye, the shepherd looked from the ewe he was clutching to the boy. He spoke barely above
a whisper. "Ah, my son from the sea, look at this poor little one. She will never become a mother, or see another
dawn." Leaning over Luis, the boy broke his grasp upon the dead sheep. It rolled to one side on the ledge.
Neb rubbed the old man's hands, trying to get some circulation going in them. "Forget the ewe, Luis. Are you
hurt? Tell me!"
The old shepherd sighed. "I cannot move my legs, and it pains me to breathe. No, please, keep your poncho on,
son. You need it." Then he lost consciousness.
The rope snaked down, striking Neb's shoulder. Den stood on the cliff edge with the other end clenched in his
jaws. Wrapping Luis in the thick sheepskin poncho, Neb fashioned around him a cradle of rope, making sure it was
firm and secure. He climbed back up to the plateau, using both handholds in the rock and the rope. Between them,
Neb and Den hauled the old shepherd's still form back up to the clifftop. How Neb found the strength and endurance
to get his injured friend back to the hut, he did not know, but he accomplished the task. With Luis draped about his
shoulders and his own legs quivering furiously, Neb staggered through the doorway and collapsed inside.
After a while he was wakened by Den licking his face. Neb stood up slowly, but found that his head remained
bowed from the strain that had been put upon him. He no longer had the strength to lift Luis, so he dragged him across
to the lifeboat and rolled him in onto the soft grass and sack padding. Luis gave out a long, high-pitched moan, like
that of a wounded animal. Neb made tea, cooling it by pouring in lots of milk. He managed to get a drop between the
cold, parched lips of his friend, but Luis coughed it back up, pleading feebly.
"No more, I cannot swallow. I'm cold ... so cold!"
Neb piled wood and sea coal on the fire brazier. He stroked the old man's forehead, murmuring to him. "Is that
better? You lie still, I'll take care of you."
The shepherd's eyes beckoned him to lean in closer. When he spoke, Luis's voice was barely discernible. "Let
me sleep ... so tired ... tired."
Outside the storm had abated, the wind had died down to a mere whisper of breeze, and the rain had ceased. A
calm, starlit sky was visible through the partially open door. Two lambs had been born, and the ewes wandered out
into the quiet pastures with their wobbly-legged babes. Neb made Luis as comfortable as he possibly could. The old
man slept with his two friends close by, watching the gentle rise and fall of the coverlet as he breathed.
Dawn was but a few hours away when Neb and Den fell into a slumber. All the earth seemed very quiet; even
the seas off the Cape stilled their wrath to a placid murmur. Then the angel spoke to the boy. "You made his last years
the happiest he ever knew. Your time here is over. Both of you must travel on when you hear the sound of a bell. The
world is wide and has other needs of your gifts. Once the bell sounds you cannot linger in this place."
Morning sunlight shafting through the doorway, coupled with the Labrador baying aloud, aroused Neb from his
short but deep sleep. He could not piece together a coherent thought from the dog, only a feeling of immense grief.
The boy knew what it was all about when he looked upon the old shepherd's face. There in the lifeboat Luis lay,
forever still, his features peaceful as he slept the eternal sleep of death.
The weather that sad day continued fine, the sunniest day Neb and Den had ever seen since their arrival upon
Tierra del Fuego. The flock had dispersed, with nobody to tend to their movements. Only one ewe could be seen in
the pasture, with its lamb reveling in the joy of newfound movement, skipping and leaping awkwardly about. Hardly a
thought had passed between the boy and his dog. They sat outside the whole morning, heavy-hearted, gazing at the
hut where the old shepherd lay. Neb finally rose at midday.
He went inside the hut and gathered together a sack of provisions, his sheepskin poncho, and the crooked staff
that had belonged to Luis. Lighting a tallow candle, he touched the flame to the interior sailcloth lining of the hut in
several places. Dry-eyed, the boy placed his hand upon the shepherd's cold brow and said slowly, "Good-bye, old
friend. Thank you for the happiness you brought into our lives. Rest in peace."
Neb left the hut without looking back.