“True—but she will no doubt make her appearance soon. Let her come and go as she pleases without hindrance. It is not safe to thwart her, for her temper is none of the sweetest, and she is apt to scratch.”
Supper was soon over, for the party had travelled all day, and were weary. When it was finished Cormac again cautioned the officers not to interfere with the old woman, for she was dangerous.
“I will have a care,” said the officer, laughing, as he and his subaltern rose, bade their charge good-night, and took their leave.
The instant they were gone Branwen pushed the plank-bridge across the chasm, and disappeared in the secret cave.
Half an hour later the two officers were seated with some of the men at the camp-fire nearest the hut, making preparations for going to rest, when they were startled by the creaking of the hut door. To their intense surprise it opened wide enough to let a little old woman step out. She was much bent, wore an old grey shawl over her head, and leaned on a staff. For some moments she looked from side to side as if in search of something.
“See! the old woman!” murmured the officer in a low whisper.
“True, but we did not see her enter the hut,” replied the sub with a solemn look.
In those days witchcraft was implicitly believed in, so, when they saw the old creature hobble towards them, they experienced feelings of alarm that had never yet affected their manly bosoms in danger or in war. Their faces paled a little, but their courage stood the test, for they sat still till she came close enough to let her piercing dark eyes be seen peering at them like those of a basilisk from out the folds of the shawl that enveloped her.
“Y–you are the—the old woman, I suppose?” said the officer in a deferential tone.
“Yes, I am the old woman, young man, and you will be an old woman too when you reach my time of life,” she replied, in a deep metallic voice.