"It may be some insane fanatic."
"Maybe, but he hath the voice of an angel," said the old man.
They passed a sleepless night and were up early, packing to leave the woods. Darrel was to go in quest of the boy's father. Within a week he felt sure he should be able to find him.
They skirted the pond, crossing a long ridge on its farther shore. At a spring of cool water in a deep ravine they halted to drink and rest. Suddenly they heard a sound of men approaching; and when the latter had come near, a voice, deep, vibrant, and musical as a harp-string, in these lines of Hamlet:—
"'Why right; you are i' the right;
And so without more circumstance at all,
I hold it fit that we shake hands and part;
You as your business and desire shall point you;
For every man has business and desire
Such as it is; and for mine own part
Look you, I'll go pray.'"
Then said Darrel, loudly:—
"'These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.'"
Two men, a guide in advance, came along the trail—one, a most impressive figure, tall, erect, and strong; its every move expressing grace and power.
Again the deep music of his voice, saying:—
"'I'm sorry they offend you heartily; yes, faith, heartily.'"