"I wish I could pull him out," said the old woman, lugging at the lad's legs; "another blow or two would make more sure." But the effort was above her strength, and she abandoned it. "It's no matter," muttered she; "he'll never tell tales again."
But there the old hag was mistaken; Smallbones had been stunned, but not killed; the blow of the hammer had fortunately started off, divided the flesh of the skull for three inches, with a gash which descended to his ear. At the very time that she uttered her last expressions, Smallbones was recovering his senses, but he was still confused, as if in a dream.
"Yes, yes," said the old woman, after some minutes' pause, "all the gold is mine."
The lad heard this sentence, and he now remembered where he was, and what had taken place. He was about to rise, when there was a knocking at the door, and he lay still. It was Vanslyperken. The door was opened by the old beldame.
"Is it done?" said he, in a loud whisper.
"Done!" cried the hag; "yes, and well done. Don't tell me of charmed life. My blows are sure--see there."
"Are you sure that he is dead?"
"Quite sure, child--and all the gold is mine."
Vanslyperken looked with horror at the stream of blood still flowing, and absorbed by the ashes in the grate.
"It was you did it, mother; recollect it was not I," cried he.