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drove them to the summit of the moor, and when he came to the mound on which a hundred years ago Old Shaci built his hut, he took off his coat and waistcoat, and dug a hole as deep as a grave and of the shape of a coffin. But he did not find anything.
That night the God of Capel Sion came to Eben again.
“Now that you have got the talent, Eben bach, do you use it,” He said.
“Dear little Big Man,” answered Eben, “there’s foolish you talk. Did I not dig till my old hands were covered with blisters? Provokeful you are.”
The Big Man spoke: “Eben bach, here is the talent.”
Eben opened his eyes. He sat up in bed and held out his hands: the dawn showed grey in his mother’s face.
Weeks passed and months passed, and each night Eben said this prayer:
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