The Skeleton Crew; Or, Wildfire Ned — page 8: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

~_ ee —— See 2 THE SKELETON CREW; OR, WILDFIRE NED. eee oh ag ee em CMe. Sey A a CHAPTER lI. THE MERRY PARTY AT THH “BLACK BULL = THE STRANGE HORSEMAN AND RAMBLING BOB, THE incidents of this strange and exciting story occurred more than a hundred years ago, * * , * * as It was in the month of December, and all the country was covered with snow to the depth of more than a foot. The moon shone brightly over the pure white landscape, and, as far as the eye could range, nought was to be seen but leafless trees, which bowed and shook in a stiff north-west breeze, and their melan- choly flutterings seemed to be like gentle moans and sighings at the white death-like pall which covered nature far and wide. The pretty and picturesque village of Darlington was near the sea, and not more than fifty or sixty miles from London, and was situated in a pleasant valley on the main road, through which iail coaches were wont to pass both night and day, The inhabitants had been long a-bed, for the chimes of the village church had tolled the solemn hour of midnight, and not a light could be seen anywhere save at the “Black Bull,’ for on that memorable night some few of the villagers were celebrating the Christmas holidays at the comfort- able inn with a merry country dance among them- selves. The sounds of fiddles and a flute, and the skip- ping of feet, could be heard, both in the parlours and tap-room, Merry laughter and boisterous jollity resounded on all sides, and the light-hearted shouts of both men and maidens were caught up and echoed by the passing breeze, The night, though clear and bright, was bitter, bitter cold, and every door and window of the “Black Bull” was firmly closed, and many fires were crackling within, On a bench outside the tavern, and in part con- cealed by the deep shadows of its old, overhanging thatch-covered eaves, sat a powerful-lookine youth with stick and bundle, , He sat there listening to the musie inside, and more than once heaved a deep sigh, It was almost impossible to see his features, but what little could be discerned showed that he was a handsome-looking and powerfully built rustic youth of about eighteen years of age, He seemed desirous of remaining concealed in the deep shadows of the house, for he crouched close under the shadow of the overhanging roof, If any one had been close enough to observe him they would have perceived that this country-look- ing youth not only frequently sighed but that more than once he hastily, andin an angry manner, dashed away from his eye a stray tell-tale tear- drop that trickled down his sun-burnt cheek, He listened to the’ merriment within, and more than once a faint sickly smile lit up his handsome features, The noise of loud laughter continued within, but all at once a labourer’s voice was heard, who shouted out, in stentorian tones— “Come, lads and lasses, I'll give ye ali a toast | ae up yer glasses to the brim, and do justice Ont! . “Hear! hear |” ‘What is it, Mr. Chairman?” said one and another, ‘‘ Let’s have it, Hodge.” “Well,” said Hodge, rising in his chair, glass in hand, whose shadow the young stranger could see reflected on the parlour blind; “well, lads and lasses all, here’s long life and good luck to our good, kind old master, Farmer Bertram! his health with three times three.” i The toast was responded to with a boisterous ‘fthree times three,” which shook the glasses on the table till they jingled, and made the windows ~ tremble again. The young man, whenjhe, heardj this toast pro- posed, rose from his seat,/and, picking up his,bundle and stick, walked hastily away, with down-cast head. , He had not gone far along the beaten snow track in the middle of the road ere he turned his head, and saw the figure of a single horseman approach- ing at a hard gallop! The horseman rode a splendid coal-black mare, which seemed to fly over the ground with wonderful grace and ease. The rider, himself, was elegantly dressed, and muffled up to the chin in a stylish great-coat, while his three-cornered hat was drawn over his eyes, and shaded his features so much that no one could scarce see his face distinctly. ; When he.approached the “ Black Bull,” he stopped for a minute, as if undecided whether he would dismount or not. After a time, however, he put spurs to his horse once more, and soon overtook the youth with his stick and bundle, who was slowlyjand thought- fully walking along. ‘“ Bitter cold night, friend,” said the horseman, checking his steed into a slow walk, “Yes, it is,’ was the sullen answer of the youth. ‘Why are you not at the ‘Black Bull’ to-night ” said the, rider, with a hoarse laugh. “Some of the lads seem to be enjoying themselves there in fine style. What made you leave so early ?”’ ‘‘ Wasn’t there at all, if you must know.” ‘‘Not invited, I suppose ?” “No; nor didn’t want to be,’’ Why not? Are you not fond of singing and dancing ?” “Yes; as much as any one; but still I wonldn’t go there to-night for any money.” ‘Why not?” — ‘Because they’te keeping up Farmer Bertram’s birth-day.” , “Oh, indeed,” said the strange, young-looking horseman. “ You don’t like Farmer Bertram, then, I suppose ?” “YesIdo, Buthe hates me though, I do be- lieve,” said the youth, withasigh, — * He discharged you from the farm, I suppose. What was it for? getting drunk, or poaching?” “ Neither, I wasn’t discharged at all, I left on my own account, If I wanted to work about these parts, I could get plenty to do from Sir Richard Warbeck, at Darlington Hall, that white house yon- der on the hill, among that cluster of old oak trees.” “You know Sir Richard Warbeck, then ?” ‘Aye, and have done this many o year; his adopted sons, too—Charley, as is now in London, and Wildfire Ned, as we call the brave lad, as lives up the Hall. I know ’em both, well,” “You seem to know all about the people living around Darlington, I penne “Ido. Who should know ’em better than me?” ‘Who are you, then, my friend?” said the horse- man, with a quick glance, ‘They call me Rambling Bob,.but Bob Bertram is my real name.” “Bob Bertram?” said the stranger, with a glitter. Eboo (E(0) (E(0) S