Knowing the place perfectly, Stead had time to swing himself, armed
with a stout bludgeon, up into the hermit's cave, and even to drag
after him Growler, a very efficient ally. The contrasts of moonlight
were all in his favour, the lights almost as bright as in sunshine,
the shadows so very dark. He could see through the overhanging ivy
and travellers' joy the men peering about with their dark lantern,
looking into the caves where the pigs were, among the trees, and he
held Growler's mouth together lest the grim murmurs that were rolling
in the beast's throat should serve as a guide.
Then he heard them shout to Patience to come and guide them since her
coward of a brother had made off, and he heard her answer, "Not I,
'tis no business of mine."
"We'll see about that. D'ye know how folks are made to speak, my
lass?"
Then Stead recollected with horror that he had left her to her fate.
Would he be obliged to come down to her help? At that moment,
however, there was a call from the fellow who bore the lantern.
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