MARTIN RATTLER. 79

upon your dwelling, friend, which is a great com-
fort.”

“Hoigh, an’ that’s true,” sighed Barney, as he
finished the last slice of the pine-apple.

They now explained to their entertainer all the
circumstances attending the capture of the Firefly,
and their subsequent adventures and vicissitudes in
the forest; all of which Barney detailed in a most
graphic manner, and to all of which their new friend
listened with grave attention and unbroken silence.
When they had concluded, he said,—

“Very good. You have seen much in very short
time. Perhaps you shall see more by-and-by. For the
present you will go to rest, for you must be fatigued.
I will think to-night—to-morrow I will speak.”

“ An’ if I may make so bould,” said Barney, glanc-
ing with a somewhat rueful expression round the
hard earthen floor of the hut, “whereabouts may I
take the liberty o’ sleepin’ ?”

The hermit replied by going to a corner, whence,
from beneath a heap of rubbish, he dragged two
hammocks, curiously wrought in a sort of light
network. These he slung across the hut, at one
end, from wall to wall, and throwing a sheet or
coverlet into each, he turned with a smile to his

visitors,—