'It will be rather good fun in the morneen, when you appear among them at breakfast: they think you are buried alive. You will come to my room to-night, Roland; there's room enough for two.'
Roland's brain was still bewildered, and he had many questions to ask
'Good night,' Nancy said, softly, 'I must be away. The Lifter will tell you all about it.' When The Lifter reached his room Roland noticed that his arm was in a sling, and learnt full tidings of the attack upon the negro, and how the captain was absent from home in pursuit of the prey. Joe Murfrey, who had been in league with the old woman and Silent Poll, assisted by Rev. Mr. Jonas, had driven in the earth-roof with a heavy log made like a pile driver. The conspirators believed that The Lifter and Nancy were sleeping; 'and they will never know,' concluded The Lifter, with a joyous chuckle, 'how you got out.'
In the morning all save Roland had assembled about the breakfast-table, and a sound of triumph was in the voice of the hag.
'The living cannot subsist by the dead,' murmured the Rev. Mr.
Jonas. 'Even though our poor brother lies ready-tombed we shall begin
our repast, thankful that our unworthy lives still exercise
His care.'
'Here's brimstone and blazes to the whelp in hell,' shouted Murfrey, as he swallowed nigh upon a tumbler of brandy.
'You ruffian!' They all started, and turning, observed Roland standing by the mouth of the tunnel, whence he saw and heard all that had passed. The two leading conspirators were simply speechless from amazement and rage; and then Murfrey's eyes fell upon Nancy with a dark look of suspicion. But the girl returned his look with one of such innocent, enquiring wonder that he was at once satisfied she had nothing to do with the thwarting.
The old woman seemed for a time to have lost the use of her faculties, and she raved in the most incoherent fashion. Taking little heed of their disappointment, Roland helped himself to many of the good things upon the table, and retiring a little way he seated himself at breakfast upon the dry turf. Before doing so he coolly drew from the pocket at his hip one pistol, and from that at his breast another, laying both beside him on the ground. With the knife in his girdle he cut his bread and meat; and when his meal was ended, sharpened it, most ostentatiously, on a stone near by, now and again giving a glance, in which there was threat as well as defiance, towards Murfrey and the Rev. Mr. Jonas.
'Mother hag,' he went on to say,' I do not think that I can offer you any more grace. The attempt to bury me alive I attribute to your charitable brain. I suppose you think that you have me at your power now that you have deprived me of a sleeping room. Well, these are my terms, dear old lady: unless you give me up your bedroom, which is substantial enough for my needs, I shall shoot you the first slant I get. Then I can hold my own against this precious preacher of the Don here and his confederates. But should the strain of holding my life against these prove too great I shall fall back in good order into the wood, and make my way to the nearest magistrate, where I will render myself up.'
'You seem to have forgotten,' he went on, with a peculiar voice, 'that if I choose to turn King's evidence against you all that the den contains will be unearthed while I go free.'