The road ran along it to what had once been a wall topped by a railway. Train traffic had ceased many years before. The forest ran along both sides of the wall, shading it with its trees and thickets. The road was narrow enough for only one person, and there was no more than a path for wild animals. Now and then, a rusty piece of iron was seen among the forest rot, showing that the rail and sleepers were still there. In one place, a ten-inch tree sprang up at one of the joints, raising the end of one of the rails until it was clearly visible. The sleeper had evidently been raised with the rail, for it was fastened to it by a peg long enough for its bottom to be filled with gravel and rotting leaves. The splintered, rotting wooden sleeper was driven in at a curious slant. Despite the ancient nature of the road, it was clearly a single-rod type.
An old man and a boy were traveling along this road. They moved slowly; the man was old and suffered from a degree of paralysis that made his movements shaky, and he leaned heavily on his cane. On his head, he wore a rough goatskin hat to protect him from the sun, and beneath it, a thin tuft of dirty, spotted white hair dangled. A sunshade, skillfully made from a large leaf, shaded his eyes, from beneath which he looked down at the path he was treading. His beard, which should have been as pure white as snow, bore the marks of weather wear and stains from camping in the open, as did his hair. It hung almost to his waist in a massive, tangled mass. A single, threadbare piece of clothing made of goatskin hung from his chest and shoulders. His arms and legs were thin and wrinkled, indicating his advanced age, just as the scars, scratches, and sunburns indicated years of exposure to harsh weather conditions.