ared to
be troubled about something, almost frightened, in fact, and turning to
the rest of the gang she forbade them to divide any of the spoil, or even
to touch a single thing.

There was a fine row at that, of course, for they had all been counting on
a rich share, and they vowed they would have it, too! They quarrelled,
and fought, and a good deal of blood was spilt, but Madge took care of
herself and got the better of them all, too, for it would have taken more
than a gang of wreckers to outwit that wicked old woman.

She declared that there was a mark on the body which she understood,
though no one else could, and that if they divided any of the things
belonging to it, ill-luck would befall them all, and no one knew where it
would end.

"Trust a witch to know a witch!" she cried. She got her way, as she
generally did, for they were all afraid of her, and everything belonging
to the poor lady was put into a chest which stood in Madge's kitchen,
while the body was carried to the hollow and buried with the others.

The very night, though, after they had laid her in her grave, a very
curious thing happened. Out from the grave there came, as soon as
darkness fell, a little blue light. For a moment it flickered and gleamed
on the newly made mound, then glided swiftly away up over the cliffs until
it reached Madge Figgy's great granite chair. Up into the chair it
glided, and there it stayed for a long time, a weird, mysterious gleam,
looking most uncanny in the darkness. Then out of the chair it glided and
made its way to Madge Figgy's cottage, where it floated across the
threshold and straight to the chest where the dead lady's belongings lay.

All the wreckers were watching it, and all, except old Madge, were very
nearly terrified out of their senses. They felt sure that at last their
wickedness was to meet with its punishment, that the Evil One had come to
carry them away, and their hours on earth were numbered.

Madge Figgy tried hard to laugh away their fears and cheer them up.
She wanted no 'chicken-hearts' about her, men who would refuse to take
part in her wicked work, or even carry tales where she did not want them
carried.

"Get along, you great stupids, you!" cried Madge, trying to put some
spirit into them, "it will all come right in time. I know all about it!"

It took a long time, though, and the people began to lose faith in Madge's
cleverness; for three long months the little blue flame cr