The Argosy — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

54 The Robbers’ Cave. both she and the child would be murdered, if they remained where they were. How he got them into it, he never knew, but attributed it to a direct interposition of Providence. First he helped Dinah up the tower stairs, more dead than alive, and shoved her through the aperture ; then he passed in the infant, and finally entered himself. Ostensibly the sort of half-arched doorway was intended to admit light to the staircase, and was so low that only one person could pass through at a time, and that on hands and knees. As a place of refuge, those within would have been at a great advantage, and might have held their garrison against an army of invaders, thrusting them back down the steps up which they came, till the tower had been heaped with the slain. ‘Tales were told that as many as three hun- dred fugitives had been together in that secretive apartment: there was, therefore, ample room for the trio who now occupied it. “Vou are safe here, Mistress Dinah,” said the Parson, as he unveiled his lantern. ‘‘ Be assured that ghosts don’t like mounting such a flight of steps, and you and Master Ap Madoc will have it all to yourselves. I will wait upon you, and if you're afraid o’ nights, [ll keep guard in yonder corner.” He had managed, during the day, to bring every article necessary for comfort and food up to the room, and knew that his visits would neither be observed nor interfered with. “For God’s sake, don’t go, sir,” supplicated Dinah; so he lay down on a rug in the distant corner, and was soon fast asleep. The nurse, reassured by his presence, also lay down on the trestle-bed ; and, wearied as she was by the past day and night, followed his example, while the infant slumbered in her arms. While they thus “slept the sleep of the just,” there was high revelry in the Robbers’ Cave some five miles off. The freebooters were feast- ing on the spoils of Plas Werne, and with them was Captain Ap Madoc, brother of the late lord of the mansion, and now its presumed owner. The country imagined him abroad, while he was in league with demons in human form at home. Wine flowed, and they toasted him as Lord of the Manor, and forgot their crimes in revelry and de- bauchery. Amongst them were men once reputed gentlemen, who, like himself, had ‘‘ spent their substance in riotous living,” but unlike him, were not about to become masters of ancestral houses. They boasted of the terror they inspired, and recounted their exploits as if | they had been doughty deeds of chivalry. “YT misdoubt David Saunders, of Llanwerne,” said one. ‘He prowls about at night.” “Let’s have his head,” quoth guilty Ap Madoc, draining a glass lately full of his brothet’s wine. ‘““T saw him but yesterday, alone in the dark, between his house, and the church,” said the first speaker. ‘ He is fearless, and would sell us all to the devil if he had the chance.” ‘“‘ Ha, ha! let’s sell him first,” laughed Ap Madoc. COMMIEOOOKS.€@) m