Black Bartlemys Treasure

"I said a vain and foolish thing to you a while since."

"Aye, Martin you did!" says she, bending over her pile of sticks. "But which do you mean?"

"I mean that folly regarding love."

"O, was that folly, Martin?" she questioned, busy laying the sticks in place.

"Arrant folly, for I could never love you--or any woman--"

"O, why not, Martin?"

"Because I have no gift for't--no leaning that way--nor ever shall--"

"Why indeed, you are no ordinary man, Martin. Shall I light the fire?"

"No, I will."

"Yes, Martin!" And down she sits with folded hands, watching me mighty solemn and demure and I very conscious of her scrutiny. Having plucked and drawn my bird, I fell to trimming it with my knife, yet all the time feeling her gaze upon me, so that what with this and my anger I pricked my thumb and cursed beneath my breath, whereupon she arose and left me.

Having thus prepared my bird for cooking I set it upon two sticks and, lighting the fire, sat down to watch it. But scarce had I done so when back comes my lady.

"Martin," says she, "should you not truss your bird first, Martin?"

"'Twill do as it is."

"Very well, Martin. But why are you so short with me?"

"I am surly by nature!" quoth I.

"Aye, true!" she nodded, "But why are you angry with me this time?"

"I ha' forgot."

"You were merry enough this noon and laughed gaily, and once you fell a-whistling--"

"The more fool I!"

"Why then, methinks I do like your folly--sometimes!" says she softly. "But now see this river, Martin, 'tis called the Serpent Water in the map, and indeed it winds and twists like any snake. But where should so much water come from, think you? Let us go look!"

"Nay, not I--here's the bird to tend--"

"Why then," says she, stamping her foot at me in sudden anger, "stay where you are until you find your temper! And may your bird burn to a cinder!" And away she goes forthwith and I staring after her like any fool until she was out of sight. So there sat I beside the fire and giving all due heed to my cooking; but in a while I fell to deep reflection and became so lost in my thoughts that, roused by a smell of burning, I started up to find my bird woefully singed.

This put me in fine rage so that I was minded to cast the carcass into the fire and have done with it; and my anger grew as the time passed and my companion came not. The sun sank rapidly, and the bird I judged well-nigh done; wherefore I began to shout and halloo, bidding her to supper. But the shadows deepening and getting no answer to my outcries, I started up, clean forgetting my cookery, and hasted off in search of my companion, calling her name now and then as I went. Following the stream I found it to narrow suddenly (and it running very furious and deep) perceiving which I began to fear lest some mischance had befallen my wilful lady. Presently as I hurried on, casting my eyes here and there in search of her, I heard, above the rush of the water, a strange and intermittent roaring, the which I could make nothing of, until, at last, forcing my way through the underbrush I saw before me a column of water that spouted up into the air from a fissure at the base of the hill, and this waterspout was about the bigness of a fair-sized tree and gushed up some twenty feet or so, now sinking to half this height, only to rise again. Scarce pausing to behold this wonder I would have hasted on (and roaring louder than the water) when I beheld her seated close by upon a rock and watching me, chin in hand.