"I do," replied Demdike; "if for nothing else, for slaying my hound."

"Ey dunna think it," replied Hal. "Yo'n alter your moind. Do, mon. Ey'm
nah prepared to dee just yet."

"Then perish in your sins," cried Demdike, "I will not give you an
hour's respite."

"Yo'n be sorry when it's too late," said Hal.

"Tush!" cried Demdike, "my only regret will be that Uriel's slaughter is
paid for by such a worthless life as thine."

"Then whoy tak it?" demanded Hal. "'Specially whon yo'n lose your chilt
by doing so."

"My child!" exclaimed Demdike, surprised. "How mean you, sirrah?"

"Ey mean this," replied Hal, coolly; "that if ey dee to-morrow mornin'
your chilt dees too. Whon ey ondertook this job ey calkilated mey
chances, an' tuk precautions eforehond. Your chilt's a hostage fo mey
safety."

"Curses on thee and thy cunning," cried Demdike; "but I will not be
outwitted by a hind like thee. I will have the child, and yet not be
baulked of my revenge."

"Yo'n never ha' it, except os a breathless corpse, 'bowt mey consent,"
rejoined Hal.