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E was lyin' on his bunk, In the hut behind the mill, Ravin' like a man wild drunk. Never silent, never still. "Best go in an' say Good bye," Says old Blair. "He's got to die."

God! I never want to see Any face so wrung with pain. Nor to hear such blasphemy Ever in my life again. White he was, an' starey-eyed, With his hand pressed to his side.

"Now he raves," says Daddy Pike. "He ain't wise to what he says. Never have I heard the like All me wicked livin' days." "Raise him up a bit," says Blair. "Put that pillow under there.