Joe lifted the jar out.
It was clean, but the chips had dirt in them, as if the jar had been in the earth. There were traces of green violet paste inside on the base. He wiped off the dirt with his handkerchief and spit and rubbed the paste with his finger. The paste was sticky and marked his skin. He smelt it. The smell was warm and harsh. He put the jar back in the museum.
He picked up the stone. The cut horse stretched along the whole length. The line of the body, tail and legs was made of five curves; the head square, the eye a dot, the ears two spikes, the muzzle an open beak.
He turned the stone over.
There was nothing on the other side; just the plain, rough surface. Joe looked closer. He went to the door and the light. The step glistened, still wet from the whitening; but the stone was grey, unmarked, unworn, and dry.
Down the field a cuckoo called. It was near: in a copse of alder bog by the brook.
Joe put the stone in his pocket and ran across the yard to the gate for a better view over Big Meadow down to the brook. The cuckoo called again, from the edge of the copse. He looked, but the leaves were thick and were blurred by his eye. He lifted his patch to see better. Nothing. The bog was silent.
The sun was on his neck, and he began to feel dizzy. He had been out too long, and should not have run. Light glared, and he pulled the patch down. The elastic slipped and he moved it and wiped the sweat from below the band. His finger touched his eyelid, and jagged light and pain filled his head.
Joe zigzagged back to the house, covering half his face with his hands. He fell onto a wooden settle, pressing his head against a cushion, but the pain and the light still flashed, making him cry out.
Then light and pain were gone. Joe pulled up the patch and opened both eyes. He went upstairs to the long mirror in his bedroom and looked. There was nothing wrong; only a smudge of green violet where his stained finger had touched the lid of the good eye. He still felt dizzy from the heat and the sunlight, and he went back and lay on the settle, as he always did when he had a bilious sick headache.