Roland vaguely understood that she was warning him, but against what particular form of danger he could not define. Resolved to reassure her, he nodded his head in a meaning way, and said:
'Off you go, Nancy, and get the fish. We'll take care of ourselves till you come back.' He laid emphasis upon the 'take care,' and somewhat at ease, Nancy departed.
As I have said, the old woman was standing at the pot, and silent Poll had so arranged the seats that while Roland held the skein upon his hands his back was towards her mother. The Lifter sat side-wise, and began to read Dick Turpin. For many minutes the reading and the stirring went on; when suddenly Roland noticed that the dull scraping of the 'slice' against the bottom of the pot had ceased. Turning his head he met the eyes of the old woman; and observed that they were aflame with a wild sort of light.
'When I hears a chapter from that ere book it makes my blood get warm, and I thinks I am a young woman again. Attend to your holding, young man. You see the thread is slipping off your hands.' Roland did as he was bidden, but he could not help thinking of the marvellous effect that the story of Turpin's dare-devil deeds had upon her. 'A fit mother for highwaymen,' he muttered, meditating. At that moment The Lifter, who happened to raise his eye from the page, cried out:
'Look out, Roland!' Quick as thought our hero sprang to his feet, but in doing so received a terrible blow on the shoulder. Instantly he saw that The Lifter's warning had saved his life; and that the blow which he had received upon the shoulder was aimed at his head. The hag stood before him with a short iron bar, used as a fire poker, in her hand; and her eyes blazed with a hate that was devilish to look upon. She approached him again with the bar uplifted, believing that he was stunned and disabled; but thrusting his hand into his pocket he drew his pistol and cocked it.
'Advance a step, you infamous old murderess, and your brains strew the ground.' She was foiled and let drop her weapon. But for the hell of rage that stormed within her she must have some outlet.
'Ah,' she screamed,' so you have turned traitor to your own;' and launching the bar at The Lifter's head, she knocked him insensible to the ground. The unfortunate wretch lay where he fell, without making a move, and Roland perceived that the blood welled from a wound in his head.
'So you warned him, did you?' she screamed again, and stooping she picked up the bar and raised it above his head. Roland well understood the murder in the old miscreant's eyes, and leaping forward seized the weapon, wrenched it from her grasp, and flung it far into the bush.
'Touch him not, or your miserable life will be the forfeit.' She made no reply, but simply scowled with the hatred of a fiend upon him. Turning then she resumed her work of stirring the fruit in the pot. At this moment Nancy, whose face was white with anxiety, made her appearance.
'Fetch some water from the spring,' Roland said, 'I wish to attend to his wound,' pointing to the prostrate Lifter.