A small wind had sprung up that came in fitful gusts and with sound very mournful and desolate, but the moon was wonderfully bright and, though I went cautiously, my hand on the butt of the pistol in my girdle, yet ever and always at the back of my mind was an infinitude of joy by reason of my dear lady's love for me and the wonder of it.
I chose me a devious course, avoiding the white sands of Deliverance Beach, trending towards that fatal cleft hard by Bartlemy's tree (the which we had come to call Skeleton Cove) though why I must go hither I knew no more then than I do now.
Thus went I (my eyes and ears on the stretch) pondering what manner of man this should be who sang words the which had so haunted my sick dreams; more than once I stopped to stare round about me upon the wide expanse of ocean, dreading and half expecting to behold the loom of that black craft had dogged us over seas.
Full of these disquieting thoughts I reached the cove and began to descend the steep side, following goat-tracks long grown familiar. The place hereabouts was honeycombed with small caves and with ledges screened by bushes and tangled vines; and here, well hid from observation, I paused to look about me. But (and all in a moment) I was down on my knees, for from somewhere close by came the sharp snapping of a dried stick beneath a stealthy foot.
Very still I waited, every nerve a-tingle, and then, forth into the moonlight, sudden and silent as death, a man crept; and verily if ever murderous death stood in human shape it was before me now. The man stood half-crouching, his head twisted back over his shoulder as watching one who followed; beneath the vivid scarf that swathed his temples was a shock of red hair and upon his cheek the sweat was glittering; then he turned his head and I knew him for the man Red Andy, that same I had fought aboard ship. For a long moment he stood thus, staring back ever and anon across Deliverance, and so comes creeping into the shadow of the cliff, and I saw the moon glint on the barrel of the long pistol he clutched, as, sinking down behind a great boulder, he waited there upon his knees.
Now suddenly as I lay there watching Red Andy's murderous figure and strung for swift action, I started and (albeit the night was very warm) felt a chill pass over me, as, loud and clear upon the stilly air, rose again that full, deep voice singing hard by upon Deliverance: "Go seek ye women everywhere, North, South, lads, East or West, Let 'em be dark, let 'em be fair, My Silver Woman's best, Blow high, blow low, Where e'er ye go The Silver Woman's best. Aha! My Silver Woman's best!"