He came to a stand beside Dave Tower, who was reading.
“Dave,” he exclaimed, “part of that song, or all of it, is printed in a book. What book is it?”
“Your memory’s poor,” grinned Dave, “‘Treasure Island,’ of course—only the first two lines, though. It’s the song the old one-legged pirate used to sing.”
“Sure,” smiled Johnny.
Turning, he left the room.
In a moment he had his parka down over his head and was out in the open air. He wanted to think.
The yellow light of the moon was cut here and there by dark purple shadows of the night. Not a breath stirred. He walked slowly up the hill, watching the golden streamers of the northern lights streaking across the sky. It was a perfect night. And yet, it was to be marred all too soon.
| “Fifteen men and the dark and damp, My men ’tis better to shun.” |
Johnny repeated the last two lines of the song. So these were the words the mysterious singer had improvised to sing with those which were well known by every live American boy. What could he mean? Why had he sung them?
Suddenly it all seemed clear to him; the man was being watched and dared not do a thing openly. He wished to send them a warning. This was his only way. And the warning was doubtless to tell them to stay away from the death trap where Frank Langlois had perished.