Nor nothing else to my knowing; nor heard nothing, save thee snoring.' 'Watt a vule thee must be then, Jan; and me myzell no better.

Harken, lad, harken!' We drew our horses up and listened, through the thickness of the air, and with our hands laid to our ears.

At first there was nothing to hear, except the panting of the horses and the trickle of the eaving drops from our head-covers and clothing, and the soft sounds of the lonely night, that make us feel, and try not to think.

Then there came a mellow noise, very low and mournsome, not a sound to be afraid of, but to long to know the meaning, with a soft rise of the hair.

Three times it came and went again, as the shaking of a thread might pass away into the distance; and then I touched John Fry to know that there was something near me.
'Doon't 'e be a vule, Jan! Vaine moozick as iver I 'eer.