“Bah! away with thy trash.”
“Ah, well, call it what you like. Good-night, Master Peasegood; good-night, Father Brisdone; can I do anything for you? I must go. I shall tell the forest spirits that they need fear nothing from you, Master Peasegood. They must have thought they had captured the doughty knight Sir Mark. Good-night.”
“The impudent dog! to compare my figure with that of a spindle of a knight. Bah! tush! rubbish! Come, Father Brisdone, we will get indoors; the night-air is unwholesome with these spirits about. But he’s right; I shall say nothing, and I’m sure that nothing will fall from thee.”
The two friends turned and went back towards the parson’s cottage, while Gil hurried on to overtake his party of well-armed men.
He was not long in reaching the last horse, and walked steadily by its side; he came to a halt in the dark ravine just below where Mistress Anne had been seated for so long upon the stone, and here a busy scene took place, the horses being rapidly unladen, and pack, chest, and barrel being carried or rolled along a shelf of rock beneath an overhanging ledge of sandstone, where the little gorge seemed to come to a sudden stop before branching out in a fresh direction.
Sentries had been placed at some distance along the only approach to the place; and while they kept guard one of the lanterns was carried in through a rift in the rock, and placed upon the block of stone, where it shed its rays upon the scene, lighting up a chamber that had evidently at some very remote time been cut from the rock, another communicating with it at the back; and here on shelf and ledge were piled up in picturesque confusion what seemed to be ships’ stores, and a heterogeneous collection of barrels, bales and kegs. Some evidently contained gunpowder, while others as certainly were filled with that more humble meal—flour. Then there were rolls of sailcloth, coils of rope, racks of swords and pikes, and a couple of small pieces of artillery.
There was no confusion: bale, keg, barrel, and box were carried in by the men in perfect silence, till the last load of the horses had been deposited, when Wat Kilby growled out an order, and four men put their shoulders to a huge mass of stone, which they rolled over twice, when it blocked up the low entrance to the cave; a few branches were carefully dragged back to lie athwart it, and the party once more set off as silently as they had come, but this time with the captain in front and Wat Kilby at his side.
“You will have plenty of time on your hands for the next month,” said the former; “you had better keep an eye on that fellow, Abel Churr. I have been thinking which would be best: to catch and threaten him—”
“That’s one way,” said Wat.
“To bribe—”