"I see you also believe it. Well, I will not dispute or argue with you regarding the legend, but you must see that I did not come upon that particular cave, since I killed the wolves and am here with but a few scratches."
"Rather hard scratches, sir."
"But I shall survive them, and neither this nor the danger of coming upon the real devil-guarded cave will deter me from visiting the hills whenever I like."
"You are a brave man, sir."
"No; simply a sensible one. I am not superstitious, nor do I believe in such legends. I would be ashamed to do so."
"Well," replied the landlord, shrugging his shoulders, "you can afford to do as you please, but you are sure to have no company when you go hunting in that direction."
"And I want none–at least, not the company of persons who believe in such nonsense."
"Ah, the surgeon has come."
"Hurry him here, for my wounds pain me exceedingly," said Barnwell.
The surgeon was soon at his side, and proceeded to dress his wounds, exchanging only sufficient words to learn the cause of them, for he was a man of medicine, not words.