The men all sat in silence. Then Keno whispered, so loudly that every
one could hear;

"By jinks! I didn't think he could do it!"

"We'll now have another hymn," announced the leader, "There used to be
one that went on something about, 'I'm lost and far away from the
shack, and it's dark, and lead me--somewhere--kindly light.' Any one
remember the words all straight?"

"I don't," replied the blacksmith, "but I might come in on the chorus."

"Seems to me," said Bone, "a candle or just a plain, unvarnished light,
would 'a' went out. It must have bin a lantern."

"Objection well taken," responded Jim, gravely. "I reckon I got it
turned 'round a minute ago. It was more like:

"'Lead me on, kindly lantern,
For I am far from home,
And the night is dark.'"

"It don't sound like a song--not exactly," ventured Lufkins. "Why not
give 'em 'Down on the Swanee River'?"

"All right," agreed the "parson," and therefore they were all presently
singing at the one perennial "hymn" of the heart, universal in its
application, sweetly religious in its humanism. They sang it with a
woful lack of its own original lines; they put in string on string of