“There is no woman here,” says the other.
“I seen her a while past, and I coming down to your side. She was sitting in under the bush, but now she is gone. When you drove the thorn through your hand she let a lamentable laugh that was worse nor a cry.”
The man didn’t believe it at all. But the jag in his hand festered up and he died for breaking the branch of the thorn.
XXIII
DIGGING FOR GOLD
In the ancient times a poor decent labouring man dreamt three nights of finding a kist was hid in the fort near his home.
So away there he went for to dig, and not long was he working at all when he came on the beautiful gold.
“In troth I am rich from this out,” he calls at the height of his voice.