"Sweet bird of the wilderness, sweet is thy song"
"Oh! God be thanked! My father! My father!" striving to arise to his feet.
"The poor lad is raving, Hugh," and yet with some pallor in his bronzed features.
"I am not raving! You are my father and I am your son!"
The violin crashed to the ground and was splintered on a projecting rock.
"No, no, you are raving, lad. I have no son. They are all dead, these many years."
"Mr. Ande," said the pilot, striving in vain to calm him. "Mr. Trembath——"
"What!" exclaimed the old man in agitated tones. "Is thy name Trembath? Thy father's name, lad?"
"Major Thomas Trembath."