"I know it, honey! I know they are; they are there!" he sobbed, "but you see I'm crippled, and can't do nothing."
But the little Skye terrier could not comprehend such incompetency in a human creature, and so she very irrationally and irritatingly continued her appeals and her reproaches, until Joe hobbled up to the heap of smoking ruins to take a nearer view.
The first thing that met his sight was the sole of a man's boot, belonging to a leg protruding from the mass.
"If it should be hizzen! Oh, good gracious! if it should be marster's! But no," he continued, on a closer examination of the limb. "No! there is a spur on the heel. It isn't hizzen. No! thank goodness, it is Master Sheriff Benthwick's, and sarve him right too."
While Joe was exulting, either wickedly over the destruction of the sheriff, or piously over the possible preservation of his master, there was a sound of crackling footsteps through the thicket, and the forerunners of the approaching crowd appeared upon the scene.
Among them was Captain Pendleton, who, recognizing the figure of Joe even in the obscure light, strode towards him, eagerly demanding:
"What is all this? How did it happen? Do you know?"
"Oh, marse Capping Pendulum, sir, I's so glad you'se come!" cried Joe, on the verge of tears.
"But how did this happen?" impatiently repeated the captain.
"Oh, sir, don't you see as the debbil has blowed up the Haunted Chapel and my young mistess and marster into it all this time," sobbed the man.