“No!” Will said, with horror.
“Well, I have, and it wasn’t half so ugly as the demon. That’s enough to say about his looks, isn’t it? And his clothes! Why, Will, they set him off so well that he looked like a shipwrecked Turk, dressed up in a savage’s stolen spoil!”
Will endeavored to grasp the meaning of this, but Henry hurried on.
“Well, Will, at any rate, he lives there all alone, and has for years. Some folks say he has lots of money; and likely they are right, for what else can he live on?”
“Why, does he buy food at the market?” Will asked.
“No; didn’t I tell you that he keeps shut up like a nun in a coffin? They say a friend of his goes there every once in a while with victuals and things; and likely the demon pays him for them. All the boys say that he has a poultry-yard full of hens and chickens somewhere in his cave. I’ve heard, though, that he prowls around at night, and gets his living that way. Very likely a little of both; for he is often seen out in the night. For all you or I know, Will, he may have a chest full of gold, like a hermit in a story-book for little girls.”
“Then it’s a wonder he doesn’t get robbed,” Will observed.
“You’ve hit it, Will!” said Henry. “A whole gang of thieves broke into his cave once, so the story goes, thinking they would carry off his money, if he had any. But the demon was too clever for them. He hid himself in a dark corner, and frightened the robbers nearly to death. They rushed out of the cave like bumble-bees on a holiday.”
“And didn’t they steal anything?”
“They didn’t see anything to steal, Will. The demon had either put his treasures out of sight, or else he hadn’t any. But I don’t know whether the story is true or not; perhaps it is only a concocted one.”