"Are you in the dark?"
"Dark? der deyvil! aye; where should I have a glim?"
"I have brought light;" and Glossin accordingly produced a tinder-box, and lighted a small lanthorn.
"You must kindle some fire too, for hold mich der deyvil, Ich bin ganz gefrorne!"———
"It is a cold place to be sure," said Glossin, gathering together some decayed staves of barrels and pieces of wood, which had perhaps lain in the cavern since Dirk Hatteraick was there last.
"Cold? Snow-wasser and hagel! it's perdition—I could only keep myself alive by rambling up and down this d–d vault, and thinking about the merry rouses we have had in it."
The flame now began to blaze sprightly, and Hatteraick hung his bronzed visage, and expanded his hard and sinewy hands over it, with an avidity resembling that of famine to which food is exposed.
