“You devil—­you devil!”

John’s voice was still hoarse and low, but it had a something in it now that sounded neither of hope nor fear.

“Well, yes; devil if you like:  but the devil must have his due, you know—­

    “And the devil has got his due, my lads—­
        Sing hey! but he waits for you!

“Yes, John, devil or no devil, I’m waiting for you.  As to having my due, why, a lucky fellow like you shouldn’t grudge it.  Why, you’ve got Lucy, John:  what more can you want?  We both wanted Lucy, but you got her, and now she’s waiting at home for you.  It would be awkward if I turned up with the news that you were languishing in gaol—­I merely put a case, John—­and little Jenny wouldn’t have many sweethearts if it got about that her father—­and I suppose you are her father—­”

Before the words were well out of his mouth John had him by the throat.  There was a short, fierce struggle, an oath, a gleam of light—­and then, with a screech of mortal pain and a wild clutch at the air, my companion fell backwards over the cliff.

It was all the work of a moment—­a shriek, a splash, and then silence.  How long the silence lasted I cannot tell.  What happened next—­whether I cried or fainted, looked or shut my eyes—­is to me an absolute blank.  Only I remember gradually waking up to the fact that the Captain was standing over me, wiping his knife on a piece of weed he had picked up on the rock, and regarding me with a steady stare.

I now suppose that during those few moments my life hung in the balance:  but at the time I was too dazed and stunned to comprehend anything.  The Captain slowly replaced his knife, hesitated, went to the ledge and peered over, and then finally came back to me.

“Are you the kind of boy that’s talkative?” His voice was as sweet as ever, but his eyes were scorching me like live coals.

I suppose I must have signified my denial, for he went on—­

“You heard what he called me?  He called me a devil; a devil, mark you; and that’s what I am.”

In my state of mind I could believe anything; so I easily believed this.

“Being a devil, naturally I can hear what little boys say, no matter where I am; and when little boys are talkative I can reach them, no matter how they hide.  I come on them in bed sometimes, and sometimes from behind when they are not looking; there’s no escaping me.  You’ve heard of Apollyon perhaps?  Well, that’s who I am.”

I had heard of Apollyon in Bunyan; and I had no doubt he was speaking the truth.

“I catch little boys when they are not looking, and carry them off, and then their fathers and mothers don’t see any more of them.  But they die very slowly, very slowly indeed—­you will find out how if ever I catch you talking.”

But I did not at all want to know; I was quite satisfied, and apparently he was also; for, after staring at me a little longer, he told me to get up and go down the rock in front of him.