“I tell you it’s de Ole Nick after dis poor, black nigger,” persisted Ebony.
Flick O’Flynn acted quite indifferent. He showed but little surprise at sight of the horrid creature, yet he exclaimed:
“Holy Mother! it makes the hair sthand on mees head, and polar icebergs rholl down me back, but then it’s not the first time that Flick O’Flynn of Carricksfergus, has see’d thet chreature.”
“What is it? beast, human, fiend or—”
“Ay, there now, and it’s the horrid chreature known as the Aerial Demon of the Mountain.”
CHAPTER III.
A MOMENT OF PERIL.
For some time the wildest excitement prevailed in the hunters’ camp over what O’Flynn had said was the Aerial Demon, the scourge of the Black Hills.
Flick could throw no light on the subject, further than that he had seen it once before, and heard of its being seen by others, and striking terror to the hearts of the Indians.
For fully an hour this aerial apparition was the subject of conversation, and many and curious were the suppositions entertained by the party as to its nature.