with that he looked away from him, and what should he see but a boat a long way off.
"O sailor dear, sailor, come, come; perhaps you'll take my lot of bones," said Owen.
"Are we under you now?" says the sailor.
"Not yet, not yet," says Owen.
"Fling down one of your shoes, till we see the way it falls," says the captain.
Owen shook one foot, and down fell the shoe.
"Uill, uill, puil, uil liu—who is killing me?" came a scream from Margaret in the bed. "Where are you, Owen?"
"I didn't know whether 'twas you were in it, Margaret."
"Indeed, then it is," says she, "who else would it be?"
She got up and lit the candle. She found Owen halfway up the chimney, climbing by the hands on the crook, and he black with soot! He had one shoe on, but the point of the other struck Margaret, and 'twas that which awoke her.
Owen came down off the crook and washed himself, and from that out there was no envy on him ever to have a dream again.
