"Yes! the dead pines and deersfoot on the ground,-- So quick returned again in five or six: His cap was gone and in its stead thrown down The very loon-skin the twice-drowned had on, With bits of seaweed sticking to the flix. So Long rode home, of cap and sense bereft, But still can show the dead man's that was left, And the webs crawl, he says, when the sea rolls." Then he, having told his tale and said his say, By way of emphasis, or corollary, Spat a torpedo in the bed of coals. "And what, what, what," squealed Ike, "became of Long's?" But the old man here rose and reached the tongs, Laid fire to his pipe and phewed away. |