n open it--not the maker, even--until
somebody comes along that knows the word you snapped it on.
Now, Johnny here's goin', and he leaves his drum behind him; for,
though he can make pretty music on it, the parchment sags in wet
weather, by reason of the sea-water getting at it; an' if he carries
it to Plymouth, they'll only condemn it and give him another.
And, as for me, I shan't have the heart to put lip to the trumpet any
more when Johnny's gone. So we've chosen a word together, and locked
'em together upon that; and, by your leave, I'll hang 'em here
together on the hook over your fireplace. Maybe Johnny'll come back;
maybe not. Maybe, if he comes, I'll be dead an' gone, an' he'll take
'em apart an' try their music for old sake's sake. But if he never
comes, nobody can separate 'em; for nobody beside knows the word.
And if you marry and have sons, you can tell 'em that here are tied
together the souls of Johnny Christian, drummer of the Marines, and
William George Tallifer, once trumpeter of the Queen's Own Hussars.
Amen.'

"With that he hung the two instruments 'pon the hook there; and the
boy stood up and thanked my father and shook hands; and the pair went
forth of the door, towards Helston.

"Somewhere on the road they took leave of one another; but nobody saw
the parting, nor heard what was said between them. About three in
the afternoon the trumpeter came walking back over the hill; and by
the time my father came home from the fishing, the cottage was tidied
up and the tea ready, and the whole place shining like a new pin.
From that time for five years he lodged here with my father, looking
after the house and tilling the garden; and all the while he was
steadily failing, the hurt in his head spreading, in a manner, to his
limbs. My father watched the feebleness growing on him, but said
nothing. And from first to last neither spake a word about the
drummer, John Christian; nor did any letter reach them, nor word of
his doings.

"The rest of the tale you'm free to believe, sir, or not, as you
please. It stands upon my father's words, and he always declared he
was ready to kiss the Book upon it before judge and jury. He said,
too, that he never had the wit to make up such a yarn; and he defied
anyone to explain about the lock, in particular, by any other tale.
But you shall judge for yourself.

"My father said that about three o'clock in the morning, April
fourteenth of the year 'fourteen, he and