by the hang of their coats, and the way they have their hair cut, and by the things that they do not do; and his religion was broad as his brogue.
“The soul that sinneth,” he said. “An’ Lou Birot afther it wid that voice tu him. Bedad! the divil will have a foine whipper-in when Lou comes tu his own. Ah, me bhoys; we’re growin’ intu men. bhut there’s plenty of the brute in us yit.”
He went back to the still little room that knew half the sin and the joy of the township; and far off, through the vivid clear night, Lou led the chase for the soul that had sinned.
Trees and clumped houses showed up and passed; planking came under-foot with a shiver; down stream and up blinked the red-eyed dredges, and from the right came the squeal of hydraulics. Beyond, tall cliffs slewed, the track at an angle, and Murray cried:
“You can get us up the Changing, Lou? We’ll lose hours if we follow the road.”
Lou chuckled. For the animal instinct of following a lead is stronger when other forces are numb.
“Yes; and at top—if you’re game.”
“Hear that!” cried Mogger. “At top—up the Changin’—hear that———”
“Stow it,” said Danny savagely. “Think we’re all deaf if we ain’t got ears the size o’
