'Oh, I forgot to say that Bob Brygandyne whipped away my
draft of the ship's scroll-work, and would not give it back to me
to re-draw. He said 'twould do well enough. Howsoever, my
lawful work kept me too busied to remember him. Body o' me,
but I worked that winter upon the gates and the bronzes for the
tomb as I'd never worked before! I was leaner than a lath, but I
lived - I lived then!' Hal looked at Mr Springett with his wise,
crinkled-up eyes, and the old man smiled back.

'Ouch!' Dan cried. He had been hollowing out the schooner's
after-deck, the little gouge had slipped and gashed the ball of his
left thumb, - an ugly, triangular tear.

'That came of not steadying your wrist,' said Hal calmly.
'Don't bleed over the wood. Do your work with your heart's
blood, but no need to let it show.' He rose and peered into a
corner of the loft.

Mr Springett had risen too, and swept down a ball of cobwebs
from a rafter.

'Clap that on,' was all he said, 'and put your handkerchief atop.
'Twill cake over in a minute. It don't hurt now, do it?'

'No,' said Dan indignantly. 'You know it has happened lots of
times. I'll tie it up myself. Go on, sir.'

'And it'll happen hundreds of times more,' said Hal with a
friendly nod as he sat down again. But he did not go on till Dan's
hand was tied up properly. Then he said: