(Chorus)
Napoleon looked up at the end of the song and spat upon his hands.
"Gett," he said placidly, "I think that's a lie—metaphorical speakin'. Ain't mad, are you?"
Gettysburg made no response. He merely shoveled.
One of the sluices, weakened by a leak that had undermined its pinning, fell from place, at the farther end of the line. Old Dave went down to repair it. Napoleon took advantage of his absence to come to Beth, with an air of imparting something confidential.
"Splice my main brace," said he, with his head on one side, quaintly, "wasn't that a blasphermous yarn old Dave was givin' us about the wind blowing that log chain away a link at a time? Old son of a gun!"
Beth was inquisitive.
"Why do you call him a son of a gun?"
Napoleon scratched his head.
"Well, you see, Dave's mother held up his father with a Colt forty-five and makes him marry her. Then along comes Dave. I reckon that makes him a sure enough son of a gun."