Lon [petulantly]. Cain't you stay where you was put—with a heap o' rocks on top o' ye?
The Figure [thinly ironical]. Can't seem to give up the old habits, y' know.
Lon [thickly, tossing the pack down]. What's the hell's a corpse got to do with habits?
Ghost [unmoved]. You pore fool, you'll learn when you come over.
Lon [huskily]. Come over—wh'ar?
Ghost [significantly]. Where I am. [Sings in a quavering voice.]
There's many a girl can go all round about
And hear the small birds sing—
Lon [snarling]. Dry up on them corpse tunes o' yourn, Harvey Mace.
Ghost [leering]. Oh, you recognize me, eh? You recognize your old friend and pardner, do you, Lon Purdy?
Lon [sullenly]. I knowed you'd come.