Black Bartlemys Treasure

"Amen!" says I. And needs must think of Adam and Godby and wonder where they might be.

"'Tis very dark, shall we not have a light?" she questioned.

"If I can find our lamp," says I, groping about for it.

"Here is a candle!"

"A candle?" says I, "And where should we find a candle?"

"We have three, Martin. I made them with tallow from our goat, though they are poor things, I fear."

Taking out my tinder-box I very soon had these candles burning, and though they smoked somewhat, a very excellent light we thought them. "And now for supper!" says she, beginning to bustle about. "Our meat is in the larder, Martin." Now this larder was our third and smallest cave, and going therein I was immediately struck by the coldness of it, moreover the flame of the candle I bore flickered as in a draught of air, insomuch that, forgetting the meat, I began searching high and low, looking for some crack or crevice whence this draught issued, yet found none. This set me to wondering; for here was the cave some ten feet by twelve or more, and set deep within the living rock, the walls smoothed off, here and there, as by hand, but with never a crack or fissure in roof or walls so far as I might discover. Yet was I conscious of this cold breath of air so that my puzzlement grew the greater.

Presently as I stood thus staring about, to me comes my lady: "Good lack, Martin," says she, "if we sup on goat to-night we must eat it raw, for we have no fire!"

"Fire?" says I. "Hum! Smoke would do it, 'tis an excellent thought."

"Do what, Martin!"

"Look at the candle-flame and hark!"

And now, the booming of the wind dying down somewhat, we heard a strange and dismal wailing and therewith a sound of water afar.

"O Martin!" she whispered, clasping her hands and coming nearer to me, "What is it?"

"Nought to fear, comrade. But somewhere in this larder of ours is an opening or fissure, the question is--where? And this I go to find out."

"Aye, but how?" she questioned, coming nearer yet, for now the wailing had sunk to a groan, and this gave place to a bubbling gasp mighty unpleasant to hear.

"With smoke," says I, setting the candle in a niche of rock, "I will light a fire here."

"But we have no fuel, Martin."

"There is plenty in my bed."

"But how will you sleep and no bed?"

"Well enough, as I have done many a time and oft!"