"I'm curious to see that singer," said Warner. "I heard grand opera
once in Boston, just before I started to the war, but I never heard
anything that sounds finer than this. Maybe time and place help to the
extent of fifty per cent, but, at any rate, the effect is just the same."
"Come on," said Dick, "and we'll soon find our singer, whoever he is."
The three rode at a rapid pace until they reached the valley. There
they drew rein, as they saw near them a tall man, apparently about
forty years of age, mending a fence, helped by a boy of heavy build and
powerful arms. The man glanced up, saw the blue uniforms worn by the
three horsemen, and went peacefully on with his fence-mending. He also
continued to sing, throwing his soul into the song, and both work and
song proceeded as if no one was near.
He lifted the rails into place with mighty arms, but never ceased to
sing. The boy who helped him seemed almost his equal in strength,
but he neither sang nor spoke. Yet he smiled most of the time, showing
rows of exceedingly strong, white teeth.
"They seem to me to be of rather superior type," said Dick. "Maybe we
can get useful information from them."
"I judge that the singer will talk about almost everything except what
we want to know," said the shrewd and experienced sergeant, "but we can
certainly do no harm by speaking to him. Of course they have seen us.
No doubt they saw us before we saw them.
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