flint upon steel, and quaked somewhat, lest her charm had played her
false. Presently the tinder quickened, and the dame had lighted a
lantern, which she held up, peering all about; and full she looked on
the place whereas was Birdalone, and made no show of seeing her,
though well-nigh the maiden looked for it to see her drop the lantern
and spring on her.

Now the witch, holding the lantern aloft, steps over the gunwale of
the boat, and sits down on the thwart; and it was a near thing but
that Birdalone followed her into the boat, but she feared the getting
forth again, so she but hung over it as close as she might. Then she
saw the witch draw out of her girdle that sharp little knife which
Birdalone had seen raised against her own throat; and then the witch
bared her arm, and pricked it till the blood sprang from that barren
white skin; thereat she stood up, and went to the bows of the craft
and hung over them, and drew her arm to and fro over the stem to
bloody it; and went thereafter to the stern, and took blood into her
right hand and passed it over the place of the steerage (for there
was no rudder) and came back and sat down on the thwart again; and,
so far as Birdalone might see, busied herself in staunching the
little wound on her arm. Then deemed Birdalone that she knew what
manner of paint was that which had made the rusty smears which she
had seen on the boat by daylight.

But now as the witch sat there, a harsh voice began to stir in her
throat, and then words came out of her, and she sang in a crow's
croak:


The red raven-wine now