Do what?
Andrew—You're right. He'll read it as easy
As the old fellow what ate pulse and got
Lean as the kine he saw. He knows them all.
Says he: "Dreams sleep under the dog-wood blooms
And love to hear the patter o' the rain."
Why, he knows the color o' their beards, man.
Says he, one day, telling me of a dream—
Onar was its name, gray-beard like a king—
Steals into a tent: "Now you can get the girl;
Wake up and fight; now you can get her."
(A low voice within.) Eh?
A dream, God bless us, fire-wing. (The shutter opens.)
He.
Soloman— Tell it.
(Farther back, a second shutter opens.)
Macias—First tell me this: Did either of you monks
Hear Fever howl?
Soloman— I heard no howl.
Macias—(Flashing back his torch.) Did you?
Leo— (In a thin voice.)
What?
Macias—Hear Fever howl.
Leo— What's Fever?