Thou wilt need thy wits on the morrow."
Humphrey reflected. Then he turned to Hugo. "Lie down, lad," he said
kindly. "The old man is crazed when he talketh of moles, but he is
right when he saith we have need of our wits on the morrow. And that
meaneth we must rest in faith to-night."
The old man smiled triumphantly. "I be not so crazed as thou thinkest,
neither," he said. "Thy mole is not only thy good fortune, but mine
also." With that he put the remains of the meal back in the cupboard,
shut the door, and replenished the fire. He then threw himself down on
the earthen floor beside it, and lay there grinning and grimacing at
the flames till Hugo and Humphrey fell asleep. A dozen times before
dawn old Bartlemy rose to bend over the two, grinning and grimacing as
he did so, and clasping his hands in ecstasy. But when the two awoke he
was gone.
Humphrey, when he discovered Bartlemy's absence, started up in alarm.
"I did get no dream, lad," he said to Hugo, whom his movements had
aroused; "and the old man is gone. I know not what to do."
CHAPTER XXII
An hour went by and still old Bartlemy did not come; an hour of silence
broken only by occasional whispers between Hugo and Humphrey.
Pages:
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274