"Man dies but once? O, say it not!
He lives again to die,
When the surly surly sea has taught
The hope-dissolving sigh,
When the stubborn arm, that strains for life,
Falls feebly on the oar;
When the loved last look of child and wife
Swims wildly o'er the settling strife,
O Death, what canst thou more!"
Just a closing word or two about the chief hero of the episode, poor Bunko. He did not return till next morning, and it is needless to say the welcome he received was a warm one.
He had taken plenty of time to ride back; but just before mounting his mare, the boatmen who had rowed him off came up to demand their fare.
One of them was rather rude.
"You're the village fool, arena' ye?"
"You're no over civil to say so, man," returned Bunko.
"Weel never min', we want that hundred pounds ye promised us."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Bunko, turning to the landlord. "They took a fool's word for a hunner poun's, ha! ha! ha! Wha's the fool now?"
Then he jumped into the saddle.
"Come ower to Methlin," he shouted as he cantered out of the yard, "and you'll have a rattling good dram, and be thankfu'. Ta! Ta!"