'Whoever saw such a bag of bones! I warrant that she is pining away for want of a crust of bread.'

The creature whined, and thrust out two skinny claws to grab the piece of silver which our friend had thrown down to her. Her fierce dark eyes and beak-like nose, with the gaunt bones over which the yellow parchment-like skin was stretched tightly, gave her a fear-inspiring aspect, like some foul bird of prey, or one of those vampires of whom the story-tellers write.

'What use is money in the wilderness?' I remarked; 'she cannot feed herself upon a silver piece.'

She tied the coin hurriedly into the corner of her rags, as though she feared that I might try to wrest it from her. 'It will buy bread,' she croaked.

'But who is there to sell it, good mistress?' I asked.

'They sell it at Fovant, and they sell it at Hindon,' she answered. 'I bide here o' days, but I travel at night.'

'I warrant she does, and on a broomstick,' quoth Saxon; 'but tell us, mother, who is it who hangs above your head?'

'It is he who slew my youngest born,' cried the old woman, casting a malignant look at the mummy above her, and shaking a clenched hand at it which was hardly more fleshy than its own. 'It is he who slew my bonny boy. Out here upon the wide moor he met him, and he took his young life from him when no kind hand was near to stop the blow. On that ground there my lad's blood was shed, and from that watering hath grown this goodly gallows-tree with its fine ripe fruit upon it. And here, come rain, come shine, shall I, his mother, sit while two bones hang together of the man who slow my heart's darling.' She nestled down in her rags as she spoke, and leaning her chin upon her hands stared up with an intensity of hatred at the hideous remnant.

'Come away, Reuben,' I cried, for the sight was enough to make one loathe one's kind. 'She is a ghoul, not a woman.'

'Pah! it gives one a foul taste in the mouth,' quoth Saxon. 'Who is for a fresh gallop over the Downs? Away with care and carrion!

"Sir John got on his bonny brown steed, To Monmouth for to ride--a. A brave buff coat upon his back, A broadsword by his side--a. Ha, ha, young man, we rebels can Pull down King James's pride--a!"

Hark away, lads, with a loose rein and a bloody heel!'

We spurred our steeds and galloped from the unholy spot as fast as our brave beasts could carry us. To all of us the air had a purer flavour and the heath a sweeter scent by contrast with the grim couple whom we had left behind us. What a sweet world would this be, my children, were it not for man and his cruel ways!

When we at last pulled up we had set some three or four miles between the gibbet and ourselves. Right over against us, on the side of a gentle slope, stood a bright little village, with a red-roofed church rising up from amidst a clump of trees. To our eyes, after the dull sward of the plain, it was a glad sight to see the green spread of the branches and the pleasant gardens which girt the hamlet round. All morning we had seen no sight of a human being, save the old hag upon the moor and a few peat-cutters in the distance. Our belts, too, were beginning to be loose upon us, and the remembrance of our breakfast more faint.

'This,' said I, 'must be the village of Mere, which we were to pass before coming to Bruton. We shall soon be over the Somersetshire border.'

'I trust that we shall soon be over a dish of beefsteaks,' groaned Reuben. 'I am well-nigh famished. So fair a village must needs have a passable inn, though I have not seen one yet upon my travels which would compare with the old Wheatsheaf.'

'Neither inn nor dinner for us just yet,' said Saxon. 'Look yonder to the north, and tell me what you see.'

On the extreme horizon there was visible a long line of gleaming, glittering points, which shone and sparkled like a string of diamonds. These brilliant specks were all in rapid motion, and yet kept their positions to each other.

Micah Clarke Page 61

Arthur Conan Doyle

Scottish Authors

Free Books in the public domain from the Classic Literature Library ©

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Classic Literature Library
Classic Authors

All Pages of This Book