"But you—you were unharmed?"
"Yes—yes!"
"Oh, Cap! Oh, my dear Cap! Thank heaven for that!"
"But, uncle, where—oh, where did he go?" inquired Capitola, almost wildly.
"Who the demon cares? To perdition. I hope and trust, with all my heart and soul!" cried Old Hurricane, with emphasis, as he approached and looked down the opening.
"Uncle, what is below there?" asked Capitola anxiously, pointing down the abyss.
"An old cellar, as I have told you long ago, and Black Donald, as you have just told me. Hilloe there! Are you killed, as you deserve to be, you atrocious villain?" roared Old Hurricane, stooping down into the opening.
A feeble distant moan answered him.
"Oh, heaven! He is living! He is living! I have not killed him!" cried Capitola, clasping her hands.
"Why, I do believe you are glad of it!" exclaimed Old Hurricane, in astonishment.