recovered from this surprise, when out of the dim interior there came an incredible sound. A voice was singing in the house,—a coarse, throaty bass that growled the semblance of a tune:—
"Oh, the National Line it ruined me.
It caused me grief an' pain.
So we 'll h'ist up on the Turkey,
An' we 'll whelt the road again."
The singer cleared his throat with a deeper growl, then spat, and went on:—
"We 'll whelt the road again, my boys.
We 'll whelt the road again,
We 'll h'ist up on the Turkey,
An' we 'll whelt the road again."
Marden stood transfixed. He knew in an instant what it meant. But it was impossible, he would not believe it, that this creature could be alive after sixteen years, and could return thus. His mind reeled in a vertigo, a nausea of dismay. Yet he pulled himself together, waited an instant to feel himself strong for the encounter, and advanced to the door.
He had thought himself ready, but he had not counted on such a sight. Just inside
