roper way
to address inferiors, and he prided himself not a little on his jaunty
condescension. Imagine then his surprise when the "old crone" suddenly
turned on him with an angry scowl and said:

"If thou canst not keep a civil tongue in thy head, I'll bring a
thousand plagues upon thee, thou umnannerly boy."

By this threat Wolf-in-the-Temple's courage was sadly shaken. He knew
Martha's reputation as a witch, and had no desire to test in his own
person whether rumor belied her.

"Please, mum, I beg of you," he said, with a sudden change of tone; "my
friend Hakon Vang is bleeding to death; won't you please help him?"

"Thy friend Hakon Vang!" cried Martha, to whom that name was very
familiar; "bring him in, as quick as thou canst, and I'll do what I can
for him."

Wolf-in-the-Temple put two fingers into his mouth and gave a loud
shrill whistle, which was answered from the woods, and presently the
small procession moved up to the door, carrying their wounded comrade
between them. The poor Skull-Splitter was now as white as a sheet, and
the drowsiness of his eyes and the laxness of his features showed that
help came none too early. Martha, in hot haste, grabbed a bag of herbs,
thrust it into a pot of warm water, and clapped it on the wound. Then
she began to wag her head slowly to and fro, and crooned, to a soft and
plaintive tune, words which sounded to the ears of the boys shudderingly
strange:

"I conjure in water, I conjure in lead,
I conjure with herbs that grew o'er the dead;
I conjure with flowers that I plucked, without shoon,
When the ghosts were abroad, in the wane of the moon.
I conjure with spirits of earth and air
That make the wind sigh and cry in despair;
I conjure by him within sevenfold rings
That sits and broods at the roots of things.
I conjure by him who healeth strife,
Who plants and waters the germs of life.
I conjure, I conjure, I bid thee be still,
Thou ruddy stream, thou hast flowed thy fill!
Return to thy channel and nurture his life
Till his destined measure of years be rife."

She sang the last two lines with sudden energy; and when she removed
her hand from the wound, the blood had ceased to flow. The poor
Skull-Splitter was sleeping soundly; and his friends, shivering a little
with mysterious fears, marched up and down whispering to one another.
They set a guard of honor at the leafy couch of their wounded co