"Are you the kind of boy that's talkative?" His voice was as sweet as
ever, but his eyes were scorching me like live coals.

I suppose I must have signified my denial, for he went on--

"You heard what he called me? He called me a devil; a devil, mark
you; and that's what I am."

In my state of mind I could believe anything; so I easily believed
this.

"Being a devil, naturally I can hear what little boys say, no matter
where I am; and when little boys are talkative I can reach them, no
matter how they hide. I come on them in bed sometimes, and sometimes
from behind when they are not looking; there's no escaping me.
You've heard of Apollyon perhaps? Well, that's who I am."

I had heard of Apollyon in Bunyan; and I had no doubt he was speaking
the truth.

"I catch little boys when they are not looking, and carry them off,
and then their fathers and mothers don't see any more of them.
But they die very slowly, very slowly indeed--you will find out how
if ever I catch you talking."

But I did not at all want to know; I was quite satisfied, and
apparently he was also; for, after staring at me a little longer, he
told me to get up and go down the rock in front of him.