s day, and I
went along well enough, though I felt sad-like, an' as if somethin' were
about to happen me.

"'It's an unchancy place there, near the pond, where the great san'-hill
blew over the birch grove an' killed the trees; and last night, as I
went through them, the tall, white, broken trunks seemed almost alive.
Why, man, I'd have sworn that some of them had a dozen faces grinnin'
and laughin', and I felt all the while as if I was a fool; for, whenever
I stopped an' looked close, there was nought but knots, an' bark, an'
gnarly limbs. Still, although I'd been through them a thousan' times, I
felt afraid, for it seemed to me as if there was somebody near me _that
I couldn't see_.

"'Well, at last I got through the dead grove, an' came to the san'-plain
wher' the ribs of the old ship are stannin', an' I got to thinkin' what
she might hev' bin, fer none o' us know how many years she lay in the
san' before the great gale swept the san' off of her white bones. I
looked at her close as I passed, an' although I saw nauthin' but her
ribs, she made me think o' a 'natomy; an' I looked all around, but saw
no one, an' went down into the water, hevin' first ta'en off my shoes.

"'The cool water did feel nice; an' as I stepped ashore, I whistled up
"The Devil's Dream," an' struck out across the beach, when, looking
back, I saw, between me an' the stream, a man who made at me with
terrible ferceness. I can tell you nauthin' about him, 'cept that his
clothes were black an' strange, his face dark an' savage, an' his eyes
almost like fire. I had no doubt that he meant me harm, an' as he cam'
up, I struck out wi' all my strenth. Ye mind when I hit big Jack Ready,
an' thought I should have to flee the country. Well, I hit _him_ twicet
as hard, an' he never stopped, but came in an' clinched. My God! I'm
breathless now wi' the squeezin' I got there. I'm afraid of no man
standin' within twenty mile, at ayther Ingin hug, collar an' ilbow, or
side-hold, but I was like a child in its grip.

"'Still I fought on, though the san' flew into the air; an' through it,
like a fog, I saw the old wrack an' the dead grove, an' the fiery eyes
that glared into mine, an' I felt the grasp of a han' that seemed to
burn into my hip; an' then I knew I couldn't fight fair wi' _that_. I
drew my knife an' opened it, an' three times I thrust it to the hilt
into the side o' the black man, or devil, an' he only glared at me
fercer, an' took a stronger hold on