From the side of the hill, which was here steep and stony, a spout ofgravel was dislodged, and fell rattling and bounding through the trees.My eyes turned instinctively in that direction, and I saw a figure leapwith great rapidity behind the trunk of a pine. What it was, whetherbear, or man, or monkey, I could in nowise tell. It seemed dark andshaggy; more I knew not. But the terror of this new apparition broughtme to a stand.

I was now, it seemed, cut off upon both sides: behind me the murderers,before me this lurking nondescript. And immediately I began to preferthe dangers that I knew to those I knew not. Silver himself appearedless terrible in contrast with this creature of the woods, and I turnedon my heel, and, looking sharply behind me over my shoulder, began toretrace my steps in the direction of the boats.

Instantly the figure reappeared, and, making a wide circuit, began tohead me off. I was tired, at any rate, but had I been as fresh as when Irose, I could see it was in vain for me to contend in speed with such anadversary. From trunk to trunk the creature flitted like a deer, runningman-like on two legs, but unlike any man that I had ever seen, stoopingalmost double as it ran. Yet a man it was! I could no longer be in doubtabout that.

I began to recall what I had heard of cannibals. I was within an ace ofcalling for help. But the mere fact that he was a man, however wild, hadsomewhat reassured me, and my fear of Silver began to revive inproportion. I stood still, therefore, and cast about for some method ofescape, and as I was so thinking, the recollection of my pistol flashedinto my mind. As soon as I remembered I was not defenseless, courageglowed again in my heart, and I set my face resolutely for this man ofthe island, and walked briskly toward him.

He was concealed by this time, behind another tree-trunk, but he musthave been watching me closely, for as soon as I began to move in hisdirection he reappeared and took a step to meet me. Then he hesitated,drew back, came forward again, and, at last, to my wonder and confusion,threw himself on his knees and held out his clasped hands insupplication.

At that I once more stopped.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Ben Gunn," he answered, and his voice sounded hoarse and awkward, likea rusty lock. "I'm poor Ben Gunn, I am; and I haven't spoke with aChristian these three years."

I could now see that he was a white man like myself, and that hisfeatures were even pleasing. His skin, wherever it was exposed, wasburned by the sun; even his lips were black, and his fair eyes lookedquite startling in so dark a face. Of all the beggar-men that I had seenor fancied, he was the chief for raggedness. He was clothed with tattersof old ships' canvas and old sea-cloth, and this extraordinary patchworkwas all held together by a system of the most various and incongruousfastenings, brass buttons, bits of stick, and loops of tarry gaskin.About his waist he wore an old brass-buckled leather belt, which was theone thing solid in his whole accouterment.

"Three years!" I cried. "Were you shipwrecked?"

"Nay, mate," said he, "marooned."

I had heard the word and I knew it stood for a horrible kind ofpunishment common enough among the buccaneers, in which the offender isput ashore with a little powder and shot and left behind on somedesolate and distant island.

"Marooned three years agone," he continued, "and lived on goats sincethen, and berries and oysters. Wherever a man is, says I, a man can dofor himself. But, mate, my heart is sore for Christian diet. Youmightn't happen to have a piece of cheese about you, now? No? Well,many's the long night I've dreamed of cheese--toasted, mostly--and wokeup again, and here I were."

"If ever I can get aboard again," said I, "you shall have cheese by thestone."

All this time he had been feeling the stuff of my jacket, smoothing myhands, looking at my boots, and generally, in the intervals of hisspeech, showing a childish pleasure in the presence of afellow-creature. But at my last words he perked up into a kind ofstartled slyness.

"If ever you get aboard again, says you?" he repeated. "Why, now, who'sto hinder you?"

"Not you, I know," was my reply.

"And right you was," he cried. "Now you--what do you call yourself,mate?"

"Jim," I told him.

"Jim, Jim," says he, quite pleased, apparently. "Well, now, Jim, I'velived that rough as you'd be ashamed to hear of. Now, for instance, youwouldn't think I had had a pious mother--to look at me?" he asked.

"Why, no, not in particular," I answered.

"Ah, well," said he, "but I had--remarkable pious. And I was a civil,pious boy, and could rattle off my catechism that fast as you couldn'ttell one word from another. And here's what it come to, Jim, and itbegun with chuck-farthen on the blessed gravestones! That's what itbegun with, but it went further'n that, and so my mother told me, andpredicked the whole, she did, the pious woman. But it were Providencethat put me here. I've thought it all out in this here lonely island andI'm back on piety. You can't catch me tasting rum so much, but just athimbleful for luck, of course, the first chance I have. I'm bound I'llbe good, and I see the way to. And, Jim"--looking all round him andlowering his voice to a whisper--"I'm rich."

I now felt sure that the poor fellow had gone crazy in his solitude, andI suppose I must have shown the feeling in my face, for he repeated thestatement hotly:

"Rich! rich! I says. And I'll tell you what, I'll make a man of you,Jim. Ah, Jim, you'll bless your stars, you will, you was the first thatfound me!"

And at this there came suddenly a lowering shadow over his face and hetightened his grasp upon my hand and raised a forefinger threateninglybefore my eyes.

"Now, Jim, you tell me true; that ain't Flint's ship?" he asked.

At this I had a happy inspiration. I began to believe that I had foundan ally and I answered him at once.

"It's not Flint's ship and Flint is dead, but I'll tell you true, asyou ask me--there are some of Flint's hands aboard; worse luck for therest of us."

"Not a man--with one--leg?" he gasped.

"Silver?" I asked.

"Ah, Silver!" says he, "that were his name."

"He's the cook, and the ringleader, too."

He was still holding me by the wrist, and at that he gave it quite awring. "If you was sent by Long John," he said, "I'm as good as pork andI know it. But where was you, do you suppose?"

I had made my mind up in a moment, and by way of answer told him thewhole story of our voyage and the predicament in which we foundourselves. He heard me with the keenest interest, and when I had done hepatted me on the head.

"You're a good lad, Jim," he said, "and you're all in a clove hitch,ain't you? Well, you just put your trust in Ben Gunn--Ben Gunn's the manto do it. Would you think it likely, now, that your squire would prove aliberal-minded one in case of help--him being in a clove hitch, as youremark?"

I told him the squire was the most liberal of men.

"Ay, but you see," returned Ben Gunn, "I didn't mean giving me a gate tokeep and a suit of livery clothes, and such; that's not my mark, Jim.What I mean is, would he be likely to come down to the toon of, say onethousand pounds out of money that's as good as a man's own already?"

"I am sure he would," said I. "As it was, all hands were to share."

"_And_ a passage home?" he added, with a look of great shrewdness.

"Why," I cried, "the squire's a gentleman. And, besides, if we got ridof the others, we should want you to help work the vessel home."

"Ah," said he, "so you would." And he seemed very much relieved.

"Now, I'll tell you what," he went on. "So much I'll tell you, and nomore. I were in Flint's ship when he buried the treasure; he and sixalong--six strong seamen. They was ashore nigh on a week, and usstanding off and on in the old _Walrus_. One fine day up went thesignal, and here come Flint by himself in a little boat, and his headdone up in a blue scarf. The sun was getting up, and mortal white helooked about the cutwater. But, there he was, you mind, and the six alldead--dead and buried. How had he done it, not a man aboard us couldmake out. It was battle, murder, and sudden death, leastways--himagainst six. Billy Bones was the mate; Long John, he was quartermaster;and they asked him where the treasure was. 'Ah,' says he, 'you can goashore, if you like, and stay,' he says; 'but as for the ship, she'llbeat up for more, by thunder!' That's what he said.

"Well, I was in another ship three years back, and we sighted thisisland. 'Boys,' said I, 'here's Flint's treasure; let's land and findit.' The cap'n was displeased at that; but my messmates were all of amind, and landed. Twelve days they looked for it, and every day they hadthe worse word for me, until one fine morning all hands went aboard. 'Asfor you, Benjamin Gunn,' says they, 'here's a musket,' they says, 'and aspade, and a pickax. You can stay here and find Flint's money foryourself,' they says.

"Well, Jim, three years have I been here, and not a bite of Christiandiet from that day to this. But now, you look here; look at me. Do Ilook like a man before the mast? No, says you. Nor I weren't, neither, Isays."

And with that he winked and pinched me hard.

"Just you mention them words to your squire, Jim," he went on. "Nor heweren't neither--that's the words. Three years he were the man of thisisland, light and dark, fair and rain; and sometimes he would, may be,think upon a prayer (says you), and sometimes he would, may be, think ofhis old mother, so be as she's alive (you'll say); but the most part ofGunn's time (this is what you'll say)--the most part of his time wastook up with another matter. And then you'll give him a nip, like I do."

And he pinched me again, in the most confidential manner.

"Then," he continued, "then you'll up, and you'll say this: Gunn is agood man (you'll say), and he puts a precious sight more confidence--aprecious sight, mind that--in a gen'leman born than in these gen'lemenof fortune, having been one hisself."

"Well," I said, "I don't understand one word that you've been saying.But that's neither here nor there; for how am I to get on board?"

"Ah," said he, "that's the hitch, for sure. Well, there's my boat that Imade with my two hands. I keep her under the white rock. If the worstcome to the worst, we might try that after dark. Hi!" he broke out,"what's that?"

For just then, although the sun had still an hour or two to run, all theechoes of the island awoke and bellowed to the thunder of a cannon.

"They have begun to fight!" I cried. "Follow me!"

And I began to run toward the anchorage, my terrors all forgotten;while, close at my side, the marooned man in his goat-skins trottedeasily and lightly.

"Left, left," says he; "keep to your left hand, mate Jim! Under thetrees with you! There's where I killed my first goat. They don't comedown here now; they're all mastheaded on them mountings for the fear ofBenjamin Gunn. Ah! and there's the cetemery"--cemetery he must havemeant. "You see the mounds? I come here and prayed, nows and thens, whenI thought maybe a Sunday would be about doo. It weren't quite a chapel,but it seemed more solemn like; and then, says you, Ben Gunn wasshorthanded--no chapling, nor so much as a Bible and a flag, you says."

So he kept talking as I ran, neither expecting nor receiving any answer.

The cannon-shot was followed, after a considerable interval, by a volleyof small arms.

Another pause, and then, not a quarter of a mile in front of me, Ibeheld the Union Jack flutter in the air above a wood.