He went out and built a fire upon the beach, and while the lumps of pitch, prepared from native bitumen mixed with pine resin, were melting, he peeled soft sheets of bark from the snowy birch trees and patched the canoe, caulking every seam with pitch. About the time of the evening shadow his work was done; but as he was returning to his home a voice called, and the Puritan hastened to his side. "Welcome, friend," said the knight. "How fares it with you and your brave comrade?" "We suffer who sojourn in Mesech," said Hough. "Old Penfold lies grievously sick of a fever." "Dwell you far away?" the knight asked. "Nigh upon two miles by land and water. We have returned to the cave which we occupied before our taking of the Dutch ship." "My wife shall prepare a medicine. She is well skilled in the arts of healing," said the other. "You shall bring us to your cave with all speed." "The disease has already taken hold upon his mind," said Hough. "One time he is holding his mother's gown, old man though he be, and wandering in water-meadows to pluck long purples and clovers, muttering as he picks at his blanket. 'Here is trefoil, good for cattle, but noisome to witches.' Another time he reaches for his sword, and swears--the Lord forgive him--at the weakness which holds him down. 'The French are upon us, comrades,' he calls. 'Let me not lie like an old dame with swollen legs.' Then he falls a-crying, and shouts, 'England! England!' Methinks if his mind were healed he would stand up again." Mary Iden being summoned, and having made her preparations, the three set forth and came to the cave, which the adventurers had hoped to exchange for the Dutch vessel, then lying fathoms deep beneath the cliffs of Tadousac. There they found Penfold stretched along a heap of grass, babbling incessantly at the cold walls and the shadows. When the figures darkened the entrance, he screamed at them and sprang up, only to fall back upon the rude bed, a fever-held body agitated by stertorous breath. "Build me here two fires," said the quiet woman, as she passed to the sick man's side. "Witch!" shrieked Penfold. "Flower! Woodfield! Comrades, where are ye? Save me now from sorcery. Hough! Go bring the villagers, and bid them fling this hag into the Thames and pelt her with stones when she rises. To me, comrades! Leave not your old captain to perish by witchcraft." "Canst heal him from this madness?" muttered Hough. "Myself I dared not let his blood, fearing lest I might do that which should hasten his end." "Our people let no blood," came the answer. "We bring great heat into the body, so that the evil spirit shall come forth to seek water. Then we strengthen the body, so that it may be able to resist his return."