Was but a Crooked Tree!”
There was a bitterness in Frontin’s voice that made Crawford sit up sharply.
“Anything wrong?”
“No. Go to sleep again, cap’n.”
Instead, Crawford got out his pipe, borrowed fire from the other man, and they smoked together. After a little, with the peaceful solitude of the far-flung water and forest below acting upon him, Crawford broke the silence.
“See here, Frontin! If I don’t get out of this, you make for the bay. Those Irishmen will be at New Severn——”
“Devil take you, be silent!” snapped Frontin roughly. “Listen! You hear the wind singing in those branches above us? Well, that is our requiem mass. We have failed in the world, and now God brings us to an end of the trail in this place—we have gained the glory of such a tomb as few men know, and the choral requiem of a sacred tree!”
“What the devil has put you in this mood?”
“The devil that is in me. Oh, I am sick, sick at heart!” broke out Frontin. “When I look into the eyes of this Star Woman, I am frightened. She is not of this earth. She is a fairy. She has been put here by magic—oh, the devil! I cannot understand it at all.”
Crawford, who felt that he could understand it perfectly, held his peace. Suddenly a sharp sound drifted to them from somewhere far below, and was repeated.