nd you're brave, or I'm mistook. And will you tell me you'll let
yourself be led away with that kind of a mess of swabs? not you! As sure
as God sees me, I'd sooner lose my hand. If I turn agin my dooty----"

And then all of a sudden he was interrupted by a noise. I had found one
of the honest hands--well, here, at that same moment, came news of
another. Far away out in the marsh there arose, all of a sudden, a sound
like the cry of anger, then another on the back of it; and then one
horrid, long-drawn scream. The rocks of the Spy-glass re-echoed it a
score of times; the whole troop of marsh-birds rose again, darkening
heaven, with a simultaneous whirr; and long after that death-yell was
still ringing in my brain silence had re-established its empire, and only
the rustle of the re-descending birds and the boom of the distant surges
disturbed the languor of the afternoon.

Tom had leaped at the sound, like a horse at the spur; but Silver had not
winked an eye. He stood where he was, resting lightly on his crutch,
watching his companion like a snake about to spring.

"John!" said the sailor, stretching out his hand.

"Hands off!" cried Silver, leaping back a yard, as it seemed to me, with
the speed and security of a trained gymnast.

"Hands off, if you like, John Silver," said the other. "It's a black
conscience that can make you feared of me. But, in heaven's name, tell me
what was that?"

"That?" returned Silver, smiling away, but warier than ever, his eye a
mere pin-point in his big face, but gleaming like a crumb of glass.
"That? Oh, I reckon that'll be Alan."

And at this poor Tom flashed out like a hero.

"Alan!" he cried. "Then rest his soul for a true seaman! And as for you,
John Silver, long you've been a mate of mine, but you're mate of mine no
more. If I die like a dog, I'll die in my dooty. You've killed Alan, have
you? Kill me, too, if you can. But I defies you."

And with that this brave fellow turned his back directly on the cook, and
set off walking for the beach. But he was not destined to go far. With a
cry, John seized the branch of a tree, whipped the crutch out of his
arm-pit, and sent that uncouth missile hurtling through the air. It
struck poor Tom, point foremost, and with stunning violence, right
between the shoulders in the middle of his back. His hands flew up, he
gave a sort of gasp, and fell.

Whether he were injured much or little, none could ever tell. Like
enough, to judge from t