I've heard a man whistle like a singing bird.

Yep, that ain't no lie.

You jest imagine a bald eagle that could lick anything between the earth and the sky and was able to sing--that's what that whistlin' was like.

It made you glad to hear it, and it made you look to see if your gun was in good workin' shape.

It wasn't very loud, but it travelled pretty far, like it was comin' from up above you." "That's the way this strange man of the story whistles ?" asked Byrne, leaning closer.
"Man of the story ?" echoed the proprietor, with some warmth.