"Yep."
"Purty spot."
"Yep."
"Which way will he face?"
"Where he kin watch fur that damned canoe!" cried Tully fiercely.
"He—he can't see," ventured Bates uneasily. "He's dead, ain't he?"
"He'll heave up that there sand when the canoe comes back! An' it's a-comin'! An' Bud Kent'll be in it, dead or alive! Git a spade!"
The pale light of superstition flickered in Bates's eyes. He hesitated.
"The—the dead can't see," he began; "kin they?"
Tully turned a distorted face toward him.