Fogo's boat, and singing with extreme gaiety--
"Oh, where be the French dogs?
Oh! where be they, O?
They be down i' their long-boats,
All on the salt say, O!"
What with the song and the hammering, he did not hear his master's
approach.
"Up flies the kite,
An' down flies the lark, O!
Wi' hale an' tow, rumbleow--"
"Good-morning, Caleb."
"Aw, mornin' to 'ee, sir. You took me unawares--
"All for to fetch home,
The summer an' the May, O!
For summer is a-come,
An' winter es a-go.'"
"Caleb, I have seen a ghost."
The mallet stopped in mid-descent. Caleb looked up again
open-mouthed.
"Tom Twist and Harry Dingle!"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Figger o' speech, sir, meanin' 'Who'd ha' thought et?' Whose ghost,
sir, ef 'taint a rude question?"
Mr. Fogo told his story.
At its conclusion, Caleb laid down his mallet and whistled.
"'Tes the leppards, sure 'nuff, a-ha'ntin' o' th' ould place.
Scriptur' says they will not change their spots, an' I'm blest ef et
don't say truth. But deary me, sir, an' axin' your pardon for sayin'
so, you'm a game-cock, an' no mistake."
"I?"
"Iss, sir. Two knacks 'pon the floor, an' I'd ha' been up in a
jiffey. But niver mind, sir, us'll wait up for mun to-night, an'
I'll get the loan o' the Dearlove's blunderbust in case they gets
pol-rumptious.
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