Explore "Black Bartlemy's Treasure" by Jeffery Farnol on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Early next morning, having bathed me in the pool and breakfasted with my companion on what remained of our goat's-flesh, I set to work to build me a fireplace in a fissure of the rock over against the little valley and close beside a great stone, smooth and flat-topped, that should make me an anvil, what time my companion collected a pile of kindling-wood. Soon we had the fire going merrily, and whilst my iron was heating, I chose a likely piece of wood, and splitting it with the hatchet, fell to carving it with my knife.
"What do you make now, Martin?"