Suddenly the old man sat up in bed, his eyes wide and staring vacantly, his arms stretched out in front of him and his hands beating together. His voice grew clear and distinct, echoing through the room with weird shrillness.
"At the cross, at the cross, there I first saw the light,
And the burden from my heart rolled away!
It was there by faith I received my sight,
And now I'm happy all the day!"
One verse was all. Spent with the effort, Prebbles dropped back on the pillow and continued his whispered muttering.
"It's one of those Salvation Army songs," observed the doctor.
"He thought he was marching and playing the cymbals," said Matt, in a low tone.
"Too bad!" exclaimed McGlory, shaking his head.
"Do all you can for him, doctor," urged Matt.
"I will, of course," was the answer, "but you may be able to do more for him than any one else, Matt."
"How so?"
"Why, by bringing back that scalawag son of his. That's the one thing the old man needs. If we can show Prebbles the boy, and make him realize that he's here, and sorry for the past, it will do a world of good."