[Illustration: _The Lizard_]

[Illustration]

THE HOOTING CARN

One of the grimmest yet most fascinating tracts of moorland in the West
is that wild, boulder-strewn district behind St. Just in Penwith, near
the Land's End. Here, amid a scene of savage beauty, wind-swept by the
great gales from the Atlantic, is a stretch of treeless moor the richest
in all Cornwall in remains of prehistoric man.

There is something eerie about this furthest west corner of England and
around it cluster legends galore. One of the queerest is that of the
Hooting Carn, a bleak hill between St. Just and Morvah.

Cam Kenidzhek is its real name, but they are taking now to spelling it
as it is pronounced--Carn Kenidjack. From it weird moaning sounds arise
at night, and the strangely named Gump, a level track just below the
summit, was, they say, the scene of a grim midnight struggle in the very
old days.

It happened that one moonless night two miners, walking back to their
homes from Morvah, passed by the base of the Hooting Carn. They knew its
ill repute and hurried along in silence, their fears not allayed by the
fact that on this night the moaning of the Carn was more persistent than
usual, and that an unearthly light seemed to illuminate the rocks on
its summit. Presently, to their great alarm, there sounded behind them
the thunder of galloping hoofs. Turning in fear, they saw a dark-robed
figure, with a hood covering his face, approaching. As he dashed
past, he signed to them to follow, and, as they explained later, some
irresistible force made them obey. Without knowing how they did so, they
were able to keep pace with the galloping steed and arrived swiftly near
the top of the hill.

There the dark horseman dismounted, and the miners, terrified, found
that they had been brought into the midst of a wild company of men of
huge size, with long, unkempt hair and beards, their faces daubed with
bright colours, and all engaged at the moment in singing a reckless
chorus which concluded in an uncanny hooting sound. But the arrival
of the dark rider brought the demoniac singing to an end. A circle
was quickly formed, and two men, more huge and more terrible than
any present, were brought forward to contest in a wrestling match.
The horseman, squatting on the ground, gave the signal to begin, but
after a few preliminary moves the wrestlers complained that the
light was insufficient. Then the squatting demon--for such he proved