cleared his throat. He sang well--well enough indeed to be
sought after at informal affairs among his set at home. When he
came to the refrain Bob took his cigarette from between his lips
and held it in his fingers while he joined his voice lustily to
Thurston's:

"Jerusalem, Jerusalem,

Lift up your gates and sing

Hosanna in the high-est.

Hosanna to your King!"

The near cattle lifted their heads to stare stupidly a moment,
then moved a few steps slowly, nosing for the sweetest
grass-tufts. The horses shifted their weight, resting one leg
with the hoof barely touching the earth, twitched their ears at
the flies and slept again.

"And then me thought my dream was changed,

The streets no longer rang,

Hushed were the glad Hosannas

The little children sang--"

Tamale lifted his head and gazed inquiringly up the hill; but
Bob was not observant of signs just then. He was Striving with