The Argosy — page 65: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

52 The Robbers’ Cave. ‘Nobody knows,” replied the nurse; ‘‘ but he’s the next o’ kin, and they do say he fears neither God nor man. I believe he’s leagued with the robbers.” The Captain was the brother of the late owner of Plas Werne, and would inherit the property under the present sad circumstances. ‘Neither he nor the robbers must know that you have escaped with the infant, or you'll be murdered too,” said the Parson. ‘“‘ Where can you hide? I have it. In the church tower.” “Tt’s haunted,” shrieked the nurse. *“So much the better. Nobody will molest you. That room was built, so they say, to holda hundred men or more from their enemies, and should serve to hide a woman and a babe. They’ll take you for the ghost, and not a soul will go nearer the tower than the chancel. But you must stay here while I see what’s to be done. Betto! Betto! Take care of Dinah Lewis and the babe.” ‘They'd better be hiding in bed than up, master,” answered Betto, reappearing. The Reverend David Saunders went out, leaving the woman quail- ing with fright, but this time it was rather of ghosts than robbers. He found the moon gone off on her rounds, and the sun about to take her place. A crimson glow was colouring the watery mountain mists, and streaks of dawn were laying their light fingers on the hill-tops. He hastened through his garden and across a green lane to his church, and stood a moment contemplating it. He knew that neither robber nor Lord of the Manor suspected the room in the tower, and even if they did, they could scarcely approach it, since it could only be entered on hands and knees. Fortunately his small parish of half a dozen collected and as many scattered houses, was at a distance; and save on Sunday his flock rather avoided than frequented the neighbourhood of the church. He was aware that they affirmed to have seen wonderful sights in the churchyard, and he knew that it was useless to combat their superstition ; so he contented himself with writing a book on the antiquity of the sacred edifice, which he proved to have been built long before the time of Julius Ceesar. Moreover, he was proud to tell how the old cross in the graveyard had been used for nailing up wolves’ heads; for each of which the fortunate slayer had been duly paid after morning service.. Indeed, he would fain have declared the church pre- Adamite, like the cave, if he could; but the deluge and other un- foreseen circumstances came in his way. Church, tower, cross and mouldering monuments looked spectral enough for anything, in the misty, purply dawn, and nobody but the Parson would have ventured to unlock the heavy door and enter at that ghostly hour. At no hour would the boldest of his people have climbed the tower staircase, as he did, in the dark, and fumbled about on its crumbling summit till he found some sort of hole, into which he crawled. He usually brought a lantern with him when he CORNIEGOOOKS.E@)