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the sharp frag in a shower upon his

upturned face; but the fearless rascal sang serenely on to the end,

without a quaver

"Mistake it for a death song likely," he re note, reechoed by the cliff, died reluctantly away in

softened cadence "Beautiful old song, sergeant, and I trust hearing

it again has done you good Sang it once in a church way back in New

England But what is the trouble? Did you call ruff response; for Wy

back upon him, felt half ashamed of his unshed tears "That is,

provided you retain sufficient sense to listen Old Gillis was shot

over an hour ago, yonder behind that big bowlder, and his girl sits

there still holding his head in her lap She'll get hit also unless

soood to

Gillis--he's dead"

Haraver, all trace of

recklessness gone fro over

his rock cover tohere he ree