"Well, they ought to hev been thar, an' ef Patrick Henry hadn't been so fresh an' used 'em first they would a-been. But you can't go back on '_sic semper tyrannis!_'" "They couldn't possibly be in the declaration, Giant, because they're Latin." "I reckon the signers o' the Declaration wuz good enough to write Latin an' talk it, too, ef they wanted to." "They were used eighteen or nineteen hundred years ago by a Roman." "I guess that's one advantage o' livin' early. You kin git the fust chance at what's best. Anyway, they did say a lot o' rousin' things in the Declaration, though I don't remember exactly what they wuz. But I see I won't hev no chance to git on with my lit'ry pursuits, so I think I'll jest do chores about the house inside." He went to work in the best of spirits. Will had seldom seen a happier man. He fixed shelves in the stone, arranged the materials from their packs, and all the time he whistled airs, until the cavern seemed to be filled with the singing of nightingales, mocking birds and skylarks. Will and Boyd began to help him, though Will stopped at times to look out. On every occasion he reported that the snow was still drifting down in a steady, thick, white stream, and that he could not see more than thirty or forty yards from the door. About eleven o'clock in the morning, when he pulled the bearskin aside for perhaps the sixth time, he heard a sound which at first he took to be the distant moan of the wind through a gorge. But he had not heard it on his previous visits, although the wind had been blowing all the morning, and he stood there a little while, listening. As he did not hear it again just yet, he thought his fancy had deceived him, but in a minute or so the sound came once more. It was a weird note, carrying far, but he seemed to detect a human quality in it. And yet what human being could be out there in that lone mountain valley in the wild snow storm? It seemed impossible, but when he heard it a third time the human quality seemed stronger. He beckoned to the hunter and Little Giant. "Come here," he said, "and tell me if my imagination is playing tricks with me. It seems to me that I've heard a human voice in the storm." The two came to the doorway and, standing beside him, listened. Once more Will discerned that note and he turned an inquiring face to them. "There!" he exclaimed. "Did you hear it? It sounded to me like a man's voice!" Neither Boyd nor Bent replied until the call came once more and then Boyd said: "It's not your imagination, Will. It's a man out there in the snow, and he's shouting for help. Why he should expect anybody to come to his aid in a place like this is more'n I can understand." "He's drawin' nearer," said the Little Giant. "I kin make out the word 'hello' said over an' over ag'in. Maybe Felton's band has wandered on a long chase into our valley, an' it's some o' them lost from the others in the storm, callin' to em."