Black Bartlemys Treasure

"I am glad you are so greatly better, Martin," says she from the dark.

"Indeed, I am well again!" quoth I. "To-morrow I make my bow and arrows. Had I done this before, the Indian should never have got away."

"Think you he will return and with others, Martin?"

"No," says I (albeit my mind misgave me). "Yet 'tis best to be prepared, so I will have a good stout pike also in place of my broken sword."

"And strengthen our door, Martin?"

"Aye, I will so, 'tis a mighty stout door, thank God."

"Thank God!" says she mighty reverent. "And now go to sleep, Martin." So here was silence wherein I could hear the murmur of the breakers afar and the soft bubbling of the rill hard by, and yet sleep I could not.

"And you caught and killed a goat!" says I.

"Nay, Martin, 'tis a horror I would forget."

"And you did it that I might eat?"

"Yes, Martin. And now hush thee."

"Though indeed," says I in a little, "thus much you would have done for any man, to be sure!"

"To be sure, Martin--unless he were man like Black Bartlemy. Good-night and close your eyes. Are they shut?"

"Yes," says I. "Good-night to thee, comrade."