When he came to the refrain Bob took his cigarette from between his lips and held it in his fingers while he joined his voice lustily to Thurston's: "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, Lift up your gates and sing Hosanna in the high-est.
Hosanna to your King!" The near cattle lifted their heads to stare stupidly a moment, then moved a few steps slowly, nosing for the sweetest grass-tufts.

The horses shifted their weight, resting one leg with the hoof barely touching the earth, twitched their ears at the flies and slept again.
"And then me thought my dream was changed, The streets no longer rang, Hushed were the glad Hosannas The little children sang--" Tamale lifted his head and gazed inquiringly up the hill; but Bob was not observant of signs just then.

He was Striving with his recreant memory for the words that came after: "The sun grew dark with mystery, The morn was cold and still, As the shadow of a cross arose Upon a lonely hill." Tamale stirred restlessly with head uplifted and ears pointed straight before up the steep bluff.

Old Ironsides, Thurston's mount, was not the sort to worry about anything but his feed, and paid no attention.

Bob turned and glanced the way Tamale was looking; saw nothing, and settled down again on the small of his back.
"He sees a badger or something," he Said.