Do you hear that?
How's that?
Why, I tell you--why, dang _me_ if it ain't _singin'_!" There came to our ears, as we approached, a certain wailing melody, thin, quavering, distant, weird.

As it rose upon the hot afternoon air it seemed absolutely strange, unimaginable, impossible.

The spine of each man crawled.
Dan Anderson, of the entire party, seemed to be the only one who maintained his self-possession.

He smiled gently.

"Now," said he, "we certainly are fixed; Heart's Desire ain't benighted any after this." "What's the matter with you ?" Curly questioned.
"Poor cow puncher," replied Dan Anderson, "I have to do the thinkin' for you, and I ain't paid for it.