“How you do keep a-staring arter they!” said the huge young labourer to the girl. “Yen you seen he afore? It’s onely our young measter.” “I knows,” said the girl, sitting down as Bevis and Mark disappeared through the gateway. “He put a bough on you to keep the flies off while you were sleeping.” “Did a’? Then why didn’t you axe ’un for a quart?” She had slipped along the fields by the road that day, and had seen Bevis put the bough over her lover’s face as he slept on the flint heap--where she left him. The grateful labourer’s immediate idea was to ask Bevis for some beer. Behind the hedge Bevis and Mark continued their search for deadly poison. They took some “gix,” but were not certain that it was the true hemlock. “There’s a sort of sorrel that’s poison,” said Mark. “And heaps of roots,” said Bevis. They were now near home, and went in to extract the essence from the plants they had. The nightshade yielded very little juice from its woody bines, or stalks; the “gix” not much more: the milfoil, well bruised and squeezed, gave most. They found three small phials, the nightshade and “gix” only filled a quarter of the phials used for them: Mark had a phial three-parts full of milfoil. These they arranged in a row on the bench in the bench-room under the crossbow and boomerang, for future use in war. They did not dip their arrows or harpoon in yet, lest they should poison any fish or animal they might kill, and so render it unfit for food. Volume One, Chapter XII. SAVAGES CONTINUED--MAKING THE SAILS. The same evening, having got a great plateful of cherries, they went to work in the bench-room to cut out the sails from the parcel of canvas. There had been cherries in town weeks before, but these were the first considered ripe in the country, which is generally later. With a cherry in his mouth, Bevis spread the canvas out upon the floor, and marked it with his pencil. The rig was to be fore and aft, a mainsail and jib; the mast and gaff, or as they called it, the yard, were already finished. It took forty cherries to get it cut out properly, then they threw the other pieces aside, and placed the sails on the floor in the position they would be when fixed. “You are sure they’re not too big,” said Mark, “if a white squall comes.” “There are no white squalls now,” said Bevis on his knees, thoughtfully sucking a cherry-stone. “It’s cyclones now. The sails are just the right size, and of course we can take in a reef. You cut off--let me see--twenty bits of string, a foot--no, fifteen inches long: it’s for the reefs.” Mark began to measure off the string from a quantity of the largest make, which they had bought for the purpose. “There’s the block,” he said. “How are you going to manage about the pulley to haul up the mainsail?” “The block’s a bore,” mused Bevis, rolling his cherry-stone about. “I don’t think we could make one--” “Buy one.”