The road led right through this rugged hollow, crossing it about the middle, or, if any thing, nearer the base of the cliff; and the whole clear space between the rock and the branches of the opposite trees might have measured twenty yards. In front of us, the path took a turn to the left, as if again entering below the dark shadow of the wood; but towards the right, with the moon shining brightly on it, there was a most beautiful bank, clear of underwood, and covered with the finest short velvet grass that could be dreamed of as a fitting sward to be pressed by fairy feet. We all halted in the centre of the open space.
“See how the moonlight sleeps on yonder bank!” said I.
“I don’t know what sleeps there, Tom,” said Aaron; “but does that figure sleep, think you?” pointing to the dark crest of the precipitous eminence of the right hand, from which the moonlight rill was gushing, as if it had been smitten by the rod of the Prophet.
I started, and looked—a dark half—naked figure, with an enormous cap of the shaggy skin of some wild creature, was kneeling on one knee, on the very pinnacle with a carabine resting across his thigh. I noticed our guide tremble from head to foot, but he did not speak.
“Vous avez des arms?” said Bang, as he continued with great fluency, but little grammar; “ayez le bonte de cockez votre pistolettes?”
The man gave no answer. We heard the click of the carabine lock.
“Zounds!” said Aaron, with his usual energy when excited, “if you won’t use them, give them to me;” and forthwith he snatched both pistols from our guide’s holsters. “Now, Tom, get on. Shove t’other blackie a-head of you, Pegtop, will you? Confound you for forgetting my Mantons, you villain. I will bring up the rear.”
“Well, I will get on,” said I. “but here, give me a pistol.”
“Ridez vous en avant, blackimoribus ambos—en avant, you black rascals laissez le Capitan and me pour fightez”—shouted Bang, as the black guide, guessing his meaning, spurred his horse against the moonlight bank.
“Ah—ah!” exclaimed the man, as he wheeled about after he had ridden a pace or two under the shadow of the trees—“Voila ces autres brigands la.”