Pale lights on Cadez' rocks were seen,.
And midnight voices heard to moan,.
'Twas even said the blasted oak,.
Convulsive heaved a hollow groan..
And to this day the peasant still,.
With cautious fear avoids the ground,.
In each wild branch a spectre sees.
And trembles at each rising ground.
The Spirit's Blasted Tree.
Dauntrees, after his unmannerly escape from the credulous landlady, hastened with his two companions, at a swinging gate, along the beach to the fort, where they found Garret Weasel waiting for them in a state of eager expectation.