She stopped, and looked upwards, panting. The quarry sheds loomed above her. To her right the black slice of the cut breached the grey tumbled wastes of slate. A freshly built wall closed off the entrance. Father had daubed large letters in red on the new-laid stone: Danger – Keep Out. Two trickles of paint ran down from the bottom of the K. Something black was lying on the ground at the foot of the wall; maybe Father had forgotten his coat there. She’d bring it in for him later. Hitching her skirt, she began to climb again. As she did so the black object moved. A head rose and she saw that it was a dog lying as if on guard. ‘I know that dog,’ she said to herself and pressed on harder. A short last struggle brought her into the quarry yard, where she stood, breathless. There was no sign of Seamus and the yard looked deserted. ‘Damn!’ she muttered. ‘He must have gone down with the float again.’ She walked slowly between the haycocks.
