"Oh, I'll not turn the brat out. Throw it on the couch there. What's wrong with him anyway?"
Briefly Grey related the story of the wreck in the rapids, the rescue from the icy water, and the effect upon the child.
A sudden change passed over the woman's face as she listened to the tale.
"And you say the men were drowned?" she cried when Grey had finished.
"Yes."
"My God! What will Bill say?"
"Bill who?"
"Siwash Bill. Don't you know him?"
Grey was about to reply in the negative, when he suddenly started, and stood as if transfixed. The sound of someone singing had reached his ears. It was a woman's voice, full of unutterable pathos. It sounded nearer now, and he caught the refrain:
"Somewhere, somewhere, beautiful isle of somewhere,