"I reckon you're excused," said the questioner.
"My friend Dick Dewey will favor you, perhaps. I never heard him sing, but I reckon he might if he tried."
"Won't you sing?" was asked of Dewey.
Richard Dewey would have preferred to remain silent, but his life had been spared, and the men around him, though rough in manner, seemed to mean kindly. He conquered his reluctance, therefore, and sang a couple of ballads in a clear, musical voice with good effect.
"Now it's the boy's turn," said one.
Ben, was in fact, a good singer. He had attended a country singing-school for two terms, and he was gifted with a strong and melodious voice. Bradley had expected that he would decline bashfully, but Ben had a fair share of self-possession, and felt there was no good reason to decline.
"I don't know many songs," he said, "but I am ready to do my share."
The first song which occurred to him was "Annie Laurie," and he sang it through with taste and effect. As his sweet, boyish notes fell on the ears of the crowd they listened as if spellbound, and at the end gave him a round of applause.
I don't wish to represent that Ben was a remarkable singer. His knowledge of music was only moderate, but his voice was unusually strong and sweet, and his audience were not disposed to be critical.
He sang one song after another, until at last he declared that he was tired and would sing but one more. "What shall it be?" he asked.