It was then 'Crombie shook off the quiet mood he had shared with me the greater part of the journey, and became hilarious. He hallooed, laughed, joked and capered about like a schoolboy on a frolic, and not to hurt the dear fellow I pretended to fall in with his mood. I really felt as if the world was rapidly drawing to an end. Last night we could do nothing but make ourselves comfortable as possible, and go to bed early. To-day we have worked hard, and obtained results. I couldn't have got settled without 'Crombie. He has tact, ingenuity, invention, and did most of the hard work. He said it would be better for me not to exert myself too much, which sounds silly, considering that my bodily measurements would have almost equaled his own. Now he and the drivers and the horses and the wagons are gone. A half-hour ago I caught my last glimpse of him between a scrub oak and a cedar. He was looking back, saw me, waved his arm prodigiously, sent up a hearty hail, and disappeared. I stood for thirty minutes without stirring from my tracks. Then from afar off, through the wonderfully still twilight air, I heard a voice singing. The words were lost because of the distance, but the tune was familiar. It was a rollicking, foolish thing we had sung at college. 'Crombie was sending it to me as a last message, to cheer me up. I inclined my ear desperately to the welcome sound. I held my breath as it fell fainter and fainter, now broken, now barely audible. At length, strain my ears as I would, it was lost.