“I am the last man in the western world to see the sun. After it is gone to everyone else, I see it for a little while. I’ve seen it every night for twenty years. Except when the fog was in or the rain was falling, I’ve seen the sun set.”
“I live over to the right, on a flat,” the old man said. “My house is five hundred feet above the beach.” He nodded at them impressively. “You shall come to stay with me. You will see how high it is.” He paused, and a secret hesitant mist settled over his eyes. He looked at Thomas, and then looked long at Joseph. “I guess I can tell you,” he said. “Do you know why I live out there on the cliff? I’ve only told the reason to a few. I’ll tell you, because you’re coming to stay with me.” He stood up, the better to deliver his secret. “I am the last man in the western world to see the sun. After it is gone to everyone else, I see it for a little while. I’ve seen it every night for twenty years. Except when the fog was in or the rain was falling, I’ve seen the sun set.” He looked from one to the other, smiling proudly. “Sometimes,” he went on, “I go to town for salt and pepper and thyme and tobacco. I go fast. I start after the sun has set, and I’m back before it sets again. You shall see tonight how it is.” He looked anxiously at the sky. “It’s time to be going. You follow after me. Why, I’ll kill a little pig, and we’ll roast it for dinner. Come, follow after me.” He started at a half run down the trail, and the burros trotted after him, and the silver bell jingled sharply.
