ween
you. He will not see you as you enter, but when I utter the words, 'The
Hour and the Man'--then do you rush in and seize him. But be prepared.
It will be a hard battle, for Hatteraick is a very devil!"

"Dandie, you must stand by me now!" said Bertram to his comrade.

"That ye need never doubt," returned the Borderer; "but a' the same it's
an awesome thing to leave the blessed sun and free air, and gang and be
killed like a fox in his hole. But I'll never baulk ye--it'll be a
hard-bitten terrier that will worry Dandie!"

So forward they went, creeping cautiously on all fours after the gipsy
woman. When they were about halfway in, a hand was laid on Dandie
Dinmont's heel, and it was all the stout farmer could do to keep from
crying out--which, in the defenceless position in which they were
placed, might well have cost them all their lives.

However, Dandie freed his ankle with a kick, and instantly a voice
behind him whispered, "It is a friend--Charles Hazlewood!"

As soon as they had gained the higher part of the cave, Meg Merrilies
began rustling about among the dried branches, murmuring and singing, to
cover the noise made by the entrance of the three men who followed her.
From the deep dark where they stood, they could see Dirk Hatteraick at
the farther end of the cave, behind a fire which he was continually
building up by throwing into it bits of dried sticks. Hatteraick was of
powerful build, and his features were beyond description savage and
rugged. A cutlass hung by his side, and into his belt he had thrust,
ready to his hand at a moment's notice, two pairs of pistols. Truly the
capture of Dirk Hatteraick was no light adventure, and Bertram, having
been warned by Dandie in a cautious whisper of Hazlewood's arrival,
thought within himself that they would be none the worse of the third
who had come so opportunely to their assistance.

"Here, beldam--deyvil's kind," cried Hatteraick in his harshest voice,
"have you brought me the brandy and news of my people?"

"Here is the flask for you," answered Meg, passing it to him; "but as
for your crew, they are all cut down and scattered by the redcoats!"

"Storm and wetter, ye hag," he cried, "ye bring ill news. This coast is
fatal to me! And what of Glossin?"

"Ye missed your stroke there," she said; "ye have nothing to expect from
him!"

"Hagel," cried the ruffian, "if only I had him by the throat! He has led
me to perdition--men lost, boat lost, credit