"Which pipe?"

"You fool! the one with the clenched fist, of course."

Somewhat unwillingly I handed him my neatly carved pipe; I had just got it
finished; with the nail set in and a gold ring, and a long stem.

"Don't let the nail get too hot," I whispered, "or it might curl up."

Falkenberg lit the pipe and went swaggering up with it indoors. But he put
in a word for me too, and got them to give me supper and coffee in the
kitchen.

I found a place to sleep in the barn.

I woke up in the night, and there was Falkenberg standing close by, and
calling me by name. The full moon shone right in, and I could see his
face.

"What's the matter now?"

"Here's your pipe. Here you are, man, take it."

"Pipe?"

"Yes, your pipe. I won't have the thing about me another minute. Look at
it--the nail's all coming loose."

I took the pipe, and saw the nail had begun to curl away from the wood.