long wash of a sea like none I ever heard. . . . 'Well,' says I to
the Injin grinnin' before me, 'what's that, in the name o' Moses?'
'That,' says he, laughin' slow in me face, 'is the Tall Master--him that
brought you to the camp.' Thin I remimbered all the things that's been
said of him, and I knew it was music I'd been hearin' and not children's
voices nor anythin' else at all.

"'Come with me,' says Grey Nose; and he took me to the door of a big tent
standin' alone from the rest.

"'Wait a minute,' says he, and he put his hand on the tent curtain; and at
that there was a crash, as a million gold hammers were fallin' on silver
drums. And we both stood still; for it seemed an army, with swords
wranglin' and bridle-chains rattlin', was marchin' down on us. There was
the divil's own uproar, as a battle was comin' on; and a long line of
spears clashed. But just then there whistled through the larrup of sound
a clear voice callin', gentle and coaxin', yet commandin' too; and the
spears dropped, and the pounding of horsehoofs ceased, and then the army
marched away; far away; iver so far away, into--"

"Into Heaven!" flippantly interjected Lazenby. "Into Heaven, say I, and
be choked to you! for there's no other place for it; and I'll stand by
that, till I go there myself, and know the truth o' the thing." Pierre
here spoke. "Heaven gave you a fine trick with words, Shon McGann. I
sometimes think Irishmen have gifts for only two things--words and women.
. . . 'Bien,' what then?"

Shon was determined not to be angered. The occasion was too big. "Well,
Grey Nose lifted the curtain and wint in. In a minute he comes out.
'You can go in,' says he. So in I wint, the Injin not comin', and there