human
Here his trail ends. Here by the landing I wait the same oar--the slow, silent one. We each go alone--no man with another, Each into the gloom of the swift, black flood. Burt, it is hard, but here we must sever. The gray boatman waits, and you--you go first. All is dark over there where the dim boat is rocking, But that is no matter--no trailer need fear, For clearly we're told, the powers which lead us, Will govern the game till the end of the day. Good-by!--Here the trail ends!