It pulled up in a small cove,
close to where he was. A man jumped on shore, and searching about with
the lanthorn exclaimed, "This is the place - here's the Iron ring." The
boat was then made fast, and the man returning on board, assisted his
comrades in conveying something heavy on shore. As the light gleamed
among them, Sam saw that they were five stout, desperate-looking
fellows, in red woollen caps, with a leader in a three-cornered hat,
and that some of them were armed with dirks, or long knives, and
pistols. They talked low to one another, and occasionally in some
outlandish tongue which he could not understand.
On landing they made their way among the bushes, taking turns to
relieve each other in lugging their burthen up the rocky bank. Sam's
curiosity was now fully aroused, so leaving his skiff he clambered
silently up the ridge that overlooked their path. They had stopped to
rest for a moment, and the leader was looking about among the bushes
with his lanthorn. "Have you brought the spades?" said one. "They are
here," replied another, who had them on his shoulder. "We must dig
deep, where there will be no risk of discovery," said a third.
A cold chill ran through Sam's veins. He fancied he saw before him a
gang of murderers, about to bury their victim. His knees smote
together. In his agitation he shook the branch of a tree with which he
was supporting himself as he looked over the edge of the cliff.
"What's that?" cried one of the gang. "Some one stirs among the
bushes!"
The lanthorn was held up in the direction of the noise. One of the
red-caps cocked a pistol, and pointed it towards the very lace where
Sam was standing. He stood motionless - breathless; expecting the next
moment to be his last. Fortunately, his dingy complexion was in his
favor, and made no glare among the leaves.
"'Tis no one," said the man with the lanthorn. "What a plague! you
would not fire off your pistol and alarm the country."
The pistol was uncocked; the burthen was resumed, and the party slowly
toiled up the bank. Sam watched them as they went; the light sending
back fitful gleams through the dripping bushes, and it was not till
they were fairly out of sight that he ventured to draw breath freely.
He now thought of getting back to his boat, and making his escape out
of the reach of such dangerous neighbors; but curiosity was
all-powerful with poor Sam. He hesitated and lingered and listened. By
and bye he heard the strokes of spades.
