of cutting it off."

"Then don't!"

"Why not, Martin?"

"Well," says I, glancing at the nearest braid that showed coppery
lights where the setting sun caught it. "Well, because--" and finding
nought else to say I fell to my carving again and away she goes to her
cooking.

"Martin," says she at last, "what do you know of Master Penfeather?
Where did you fall in with him, and why is his life so threatened?"

"All by reason of Black Bartlemy's treasure!"

"Treasure!" says she; and back she comes and onto her stool, all in a
moment. "Tell me of it, Martin!"

"'Tis a great treasure of gold and jewels in such."

"And who is Black Bartlemy?"

"A foul rogue of a pirate that was killed by a poor Spanish lady, and
lieth buried with her under the great pimento tree on the beach yonder."

"O Martin!" says she, getting up that she might behold the tree, "O
Martin, I knew, I knew 'twas an evil place! And the poor lady died
too?"

"He killed her after she had stabbed him!"

"How do you know of this?"

"Adam Penfeather told me, he saw it done!" Hereupon she sits down and
is silent awhile.

"And where is this great treasure?"

"On this island!"

"Here?" says she, starting to her feet again, "Here, Martin?"

"Aye, 'twas this I was despatched to secure, after I had been rapped
over the head with a pistol-butt!"

"And how must you find it?"

"I never shall, the secret of it was in the packet I tossed overboard.
Adam may find it himself an he will."

"And you have no desire for this treasure?"

"None in the world." And now (at her earnest solicitation) I told her
all my association with Adam, of my haunted days and nights aboard ship
and my suspicions of Tressady; only I spoke nothing of Adam's avowed
intent to steal the "Faithful Friend" to his own purposes.

"O wonderful!" says she, when I had done, and then again, "O wonderful!
So this was why we were cut adrift. Truly Master Penfeather hath quick
and subtle wits."

"A guileful rogue--and very wily!" says I, clenching my fist.

"But wherein is he rogue, Martin?"

"How!" quoth I, "was it not a wicked, vile and most roguish act to set
you adrift thus, to run the peril of sea and a desolate island--"

"What other could he do, Martin, and the ship good as taken by the
mutineers? I heard them shouting--for me!" and here she shivered.
"True, we have faced perils, have lost all our stores, but at least
here am I--safe with you, Martin!" Saying which s