Go snacks, and help me sell, you might.
Come, I should say you could."
"Yorky, pick up your pack, hook on,
Hook on, we'll make it even."
The lines were passed, the countersign,—
"Whither away,"—was given.
"I see," said Hale, within himself,
"This man's internal shape,—
The Devil can do a gracious turn,
To shy a graceless scrape."