crouching on the ground apparently very busy. Back of her a few paces
was her dark attendant, June.

"There's energy," said Gary. "What a nice thing it is to be a child and
play in the sand!"

The talk down on the shore went on; June's voice could scarcely be
heard, but Daisy's words were clear--"Do, June! Please try." Another
murmur from June, and then Daisy--"Try, June--do, please!" The little
voice was soft, but its utterances were distinct; the words could be
heard quite plainly. And Daisy sat back from her sand-work, and June
began to sing something. _What_, it would have been difficult to tell at
the top of the bank, but then Daisy's voice struck in. With no knowledge
that she had listeners, the notes came mounting up to the top of the
bank, clear, joyous and strong, with a sweet power that nobody knew
Daisy's voice had.

"Upon my word, that's pretty!" said the Captain.

"A pretty thing, too, faith," said Gary. "Captain, let's get nearer the
performers. Look out, now, and don't strike to windward."

They went, like hunters, softly down the bank, keeping under
shelter, and winding round so as to get near before they should be seen.
They succeeded. Daisy was intent upon her sand-work again, and June's
back was towards them. The song went on more softly; then in a chorus
Daisy's voice rang out again, and the words were plain.

"Die in the field of battle,
Die in the field of battle,