Merle drew near to scan the device. He was able to divine that the
intention of the artist had not been one of portraiture.

"That ain't either his picture," he said, heatedly. "That's a cupid!"

"Ho, gee, gosh! Ain't cupids got legs? Where's its legs?"

"Then it's an angel."

"Angels are longer. I know now--it's a goop. And here's some more
reading."

He ran his fingers along the worn lettering, then brought his eyes close
and read--glibly in the beginning:

Behold this place as you pass by.
As you are now, so once was I.
As I am now, so you must be.
Prepare for death, and follow me.

The reader's voice lost in fullness and certainty as he neared the end
of this strophe.

"Say, we better get right out of here," said Merle, stepping toward the
fence. Even Wilbur was daunted by the blunt warning from beyond.

"Here's another," called Merle, pausing on his way toward the fence. In
hushed, fearful tones he declaimed:

Dear companion in your bloom,