went on the song and the’ came an expression of wonder and of joy into The’s tired face.
There are only three little verses to this one, and to fill out the tune they had to sing the first one over again, soft and low. The candles threw a soft glow on The’s face which hid the pallor of it and the rough lines, but brought out all the kindly strength we had come to be so fond of; and when the music died away, we all sat still for fear o’ disturbin’ him.
Horace had been settin’ holdin’ one of his hands, and after a bit he leaned forward and whispered, “Was that what you wanted, Promotheus?”
But the’ wasn’t any reply. The little gust o’ wind had come with the song—and fully ripe, and soft to the core of his big, warm heart, Promotheus had loosed his hold on the bough of life, and dropped off onto the soft, deep grass of eternity.
“Promotheus! Promotheus!” cried Horace, and then covered his face with his hands and dropped forward upon The’s quiet breast.
“Badger-face,” called a harsh voice, and we looked at Ty Jones and saw him leanin’ towards The. “Wait, Badger-face, wait—I want to speak to ya. I want to tell you that I lied to ya. Oh Lord, it’s too late, it’s too late!” And Ty Jones pressed his hand across his eyes and sank back.
Horace whirled to tell Ty what he thought of him; but the Friar placed his big hand on Horace’s shoulder, and pointed down to The’s placid face. Horace gave a shudderin’ sob, and settled back into his former position.
Janet Morris crossed the floor to the Friar just then and said to him in a low tone: “I have found it again—my voice has come back to me.”
Ty Jones took his hand down from his eyes and straightened up and looked at her. All the eagle had gone from his face, and it looked old and haggard. “Don’t you really know who I am?” he asked.
She looked at him and shook her head.