“Good Lord above!” he exclaimed, under his breath.
“Eh? I bet you! Shall I take it to the cap'n? Eh? What do you think?”
“Wait. . . . Wait . . . I—I—My soul! My soul! Why . . . It's—it's true. . . . And Rachel always said . . . Why, she was right . . . I . . .”
From without came the sound of running feet and a series of yells.
“Labe! Labe!” shrieked Issy. “Oh, my crimus! . . . Labe!”
He burst into the office, his eyes and mouth wide open and his hands waving wildly.
“Labe! Labe!” he shouted again. “Have you heard it? Have you? It's true, too. He's alive! He's alive! He's alive!”
Laban sprang from his stool. “Shut up, Is!” he commanded. “Shut up! Hold on! Don't—”
“But he's alive, I tell you! He ain't dead! He ain't never been dead! Oh, my crimus! . . . Hey, Cap'n Lote! HE'S ALIVE!”
Captain Zelotes was standing in the doorway of the private office. The noise had aroused him from his letter writing.