g. He will be
beginning now."

Ay, the voice began. We were wooden men, in rows, listening to this
Italian singing here a golden dream between his teeth.

"Who is this man?" said Rainbow Pete. Heh! Heh! Had he not heard this
voice before? We were dumb. Oh, this was wild, this was sweet, the long
cry of the man over the deep valley. He sang in his throat, saying to
the woman there would be no returning. The night was blue. I'm telling
you. He was a cunning beggar, Pal Yachy, for making the stars burn in
their sockets.

Now I saw him lift his arm to his head, the wicked sailor, listening to
the tune of his enemy. Ay, this was the man who had fashioned him in the
form of a rainbow. Still he did not know it, dreaming on his feet. He
went swaying like a poplar.

Look, I am an old man, but I stood thinking of my airly days. Yes, yes.
My brain was heavy. Oh, it was a sweet dagger here twisting in the soul
of man. I went picturing the deep snow to me, and the dark spruces of
the North; oh, the roses are speaking to me again from this cheek that
has been gone from me so long.

Heh! Heh! I should not be speaking of this. It was a sorrowful harp, the
voice of that fiend. It was like the wind following the eddy into
Lookout Cavern. Now it went choking that great sailor at the throat;
look, he was mild, he was a simple man for crying. The tears rolled in
his cheek, they sparkled there like the champagne.

Oh my, the song was done.

He was dumb, the great sailor, twisting his mustache.

"Come now," said McGregor, "quick, he will be going into the house."

They were gulls for diving at the ledge; but Rainbow Pete held out his
arm, stopping them.

"Stand away," he said, "I will be going into my house with old Greyback
here and no other."

This arm was not yet withered he had. No! They stayed in their tracks,
as we were going up the ledge.

The door was open of that house; the stringed instrument was laid
against it. Ay, the strings were humming still, the song was spinning
round like a leaf in the cavern of it; but the black Italian was inside.

Yes, he had gone before into the chamber where she was lying, with his
beautiful smile.

The door here was open. Look, by candle-light I saw her lying in a red
blanket, staring at the notable singer. Yes, I saw the bottles
containing odors standing in a row. There was scent in the room. Now she
closed her eyes, this prairie woman, lying under him like death. My
friend, there